YOSEIilTE 
TRAILS 



J ' SMEATONrCHASE 




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COPYRIGHT DEPOSITS 



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YOSEMITE TRAILS. Illustrated. 
CONE-BEARING TREES OF THE CALIFORNIA 
MOUNTAINS. 



YOSEMITE TRAILS 




HALF-DOME FROM THK KAM 



(Pase oi 



YOSEMITE TRAILS 

CAMP AND PACK-TRAIN IN THE YOSEMITE 
REGION OF THE SIERRA NEVADA 



BY 

J. SMEATON CHASE 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 

AND A MAP 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

MDCCCCXI 






'■i 



COPYRIGHT, 191 1, BY J, SMEATON CHASE 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published March jqii 



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G(.A28.3415 



TO 

FREDERICK OLIVER POPENOE 
OF ALTADENA, CALIFORNIA 
AT WHOSE SUGGESTION THE EXPEDITIONS OF WHICH 
THIS VOLUME IS THE RESULT WERE UNDER- 
TAKEN, THIS ADVENTURE OF A FIRST 
BOOK IS BY THE AUTHOR COR- 
DIALLY INSCRIBED 



PREFACE 

THE following pages are the outcome of three 
journeys, two of them of considerable length, 
through the Yosemite region of the Sierra Nevada, 
and of a resulting desire to acquaint the nature-lov- 
ing public with the attractions more particularly of 
the less known areas of the locality. The writer has 
preferred not to limit his work to the specific uses of 
a guide-book, but has allowed a natural propensity 
for a loose rein and discursive observation to dictate 
its range; with the result, he hopes, of a gain in 
variety and interest both to the general reader and 
to the prospective and retrospective wayfarer in the 
region. The volume will be found, however, to have 
also much of the value of a guide-book for the travel- 
ler on the ground, and with this point in view it is 
furnished with a map. 

Especially it has been the design of the writer to 
direct the attention of mountaineers and lake-lovers 
to the fact, almost unknown even among devotees of 
the out-of-doors, that there exists in the Sierra Nevada 
a lake-land of incomparable richness and peculiar di- 
versity of charm : where lakes are sprinkled like stars, 
exceeding the possibility of distinguishing them by 
name. The time is coming when the highlands of this 



via 



PREFACE 



great Californian range, which it is not too grandiose 
to call the Alps of our country, with its superb features 
of mountain, forest, river, glacier, lake, and meadow, 
and lying under a climate of unequalled regularity 
and perfection, will be the playground of America. 
It is largely the purpose of this volume to expedite 
the day. 
Los AxGELEs, California. 



CONTENTS 

PART I : YOSEMITE AND THE SEQUOIAS 

I. A General Survey of the Yosemite Val- 
ley 3 

II. The Principal Rock-Features of the Val- 
ley 15 

III. Some Observations on the Nomenclature 

OF THE Valley 27 

IV. A Circuit of Yosemite Rim : Fort Monroe 

TO the Little Yosemite 37 

V. A Circuit of Yosemite Rim : The Little 

Yosemite to the Tuolumne Meadows . 55 

VI. A Circuit of Yosemite Rim : The Tuolumne 

Meadows to Yosemite Falls .... 72 

VII. A Circuit of Yosemite Rim : Yosemite 

Falls to the Big Oak Flat Road . . 91 

VIII. Th£ Forests of the Yosemite Region . .103 

IX. The Great Sequoias 126 

X. The Wawona Country 144 

XI. Rafaelito : An Interlude 169 



X CONTENTS 

PART II : THE HIGH SIERRA 

XII. The High Sierra :,The Yosemite Valley 

TO the Hetch-Hetchy 187 

XIII. The High Sierra : The Hetch-Hetchy to 

THE TiLL-TILL 211 

XIV. The High Sierra : The Till-till to Lake 

Benson 229 

XV. The High Sierra : Lake Benson to Lake 

Tenaya 246 

XVI. Bodie: ''Well, Sir — " 264 

XVII. The High Sierra : Lake Tenaya to Mono 282 

XVIII. The High Sierra : Mono to Gem Lake . 306 

XIX. The High Sierra: Gem Lake to the 

Little Yosemite 326 

Index 347 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Half-Dome from the East (page 339) Froiitispiece^^ 

The Yosemite Falls 8«^ 

The Yosemite Valley 12^ 

The Sentinel 20*^ 

The Half-Dome 26 t^ 

Cathedral Peak 68 U- 

A Mountain Meadow in the Forest Belt . . 94^/ 

The Great Seqtljoias 128*^ 

A Trail in the Wawona Forest 152 iX 

El Capitan from the Big Oak Flat Road . . iSS*^ 

The Hetch-Hetchy 202 "^ 

Our Lake in Jack Main Canon 234 ^ 

Mount Dana and Jessie Lake 288 1^ 

Looking Eastward from Mount Dana, Mono 

Lake in the Distance 292/^ 

Rush Creek and the Crest of the Sierra. . 314 

Mount Lyell with its Glacier 320 -^ 

Map 346' 

The illustrations are from photographs (most of which were made especially 
for this book) by the Pillsbury Picture Company, of San Francisco, California, 
with the exception of a few by the author. 



PART I 

YOSEMITE AND THE SEQUOIAS 



''Mother of marvels, mysterious and tender Nature, 
why do we not live more in thee ? " 

Amiel. 



YOSEMITE TRAILS 

CHAPTER I 

A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY 

THE YOSEMITE VALLEY is not, properly speak- 
ing, a valley. That word conveys the image of 
a gentle depression with sloping sides, which the 
patient fingers of Time have smoothed and rounded 
into quiet, compliant lines. The Yosemite is not in 
the least of that character. It is a great cleft, or chasm, 
which one might imagine to have been the work 
of some exasperated Titan who, standing with feet 
planted fifty miles apart lengthwise of the Sierra Ne- 
vada summit and facing westward, raised his hands 
palm to palm over his head, and struck upon the 
earth with such fury as to cleave a gap nearly a mile 
in depth ; then separating his hands he thrust back 
the sides of the fracture, leaving between them a nar- 
row, precipice-walled plain. 

The Act of Congress of 1864 by which the tract 
was granted to the State of California defined it as 
"the * cleft ^ or * gorge' in the granite peak of the 
Sierra Nevada mountain " ; and it would have been 
better if in the early descriptions of the spot it had 
been referred to as the Yosemite Gorge, which would 



4 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

have more properly described it and also would have 
been more stimulating to the imagination than the 
tamer designation which is now, no doubt, securely 
fixed upon it. 

In what may be called its aesthetic sense, however, 
the word " valley" answers well enough ; for the level 
enclosed between the walls is a sheltered tract of the 
richest verdure, mixed of forest and meadow, watered 
by a wandering and placid river, starred with flowers, 
and the paradise of birds and friendly, harmless crea- 
tures. 

It is greatly in this contrast between the grandeur 
and severity of the encircling walls and the sylvan 
charm of the protected enclosure that the unique 
character of Yosemite consists. It is as if Nature had 
here put herself to show a parable of contrasted excel- 
lences, setting the stern heights and solemn silences 
of the cliffs against the soft demeanor and gentle 
voices of trees and flowers, streams and heavenly 
meadows ; and to marry them together she pours the 
great waterfalls, in whose cloudy graces majesty and 
loveliness are so mingled that one cannot tell which 
of the two delights him the more. 

The valley — I shall use the term which custom 
has fixed — may be said to begin, on the west, where 
the Bridal Veil Fall pours down over the southern 
cliff, and to end at the conspicuous pillar or buttress 
of the northern wall that is called the Washington 
Column ; at which point the cafions of the main Mer- 
ced River and the Tenaya Creek converge. Within 



SURVEY OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY 5 

these limits the valley is about six miles long and has 
an average width of about half a mile. Its general di- 
rection is east and west, crosswise to the axis of the 
mountain chain which it cleaves. The ** floor" is re- 
markably level, and lies at an elevation of almost 
exactly four thousand feet. 

At the point where, in following upwards the course 
of the Merced River, this altitude is reached, the 
caiion opens, while at the same time the walls, which 
along the whole course of the river since leaving the 
plain of the San Joaquin have been first hilly and then 
mountainous, become high and precipitous cliffs, des- 
titute of trees or brush except as regards the talus at 
their feet, the huge blocks and cubes of which give 
footing to a chaparral of flowering brush interspersed 
with oaks, maples, and platoons of indomitable pines. 
The level plain lies between, a long glade through 
which the quiet river makes its way, winding leisurely 
from side to side, more like some thoughtful lowland 
stream than what it is, — the nervous, quick-breathing 
child of glacier and mountain-chasm. A growth of 
willows and poplars marks its course, contrasting 
their summer green or winter lavender against the 
sombre richness of the evergreens. 

Every observant person will be struck at first sight 
by what he will later find to be the salient geological 
feature of the whole Yosemite region, — the curved, 
rind-like forms of the layers of rock of which these 
mountains are built. A rough image of this can be 
made by placing the open hands one upon the other, 



6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the palms downward and considerably concaved ; or, 
if the reader will excuse the violence of the illustra- 
tion, a granite onion of mountain size would well 
represent the formation. This peculiar structure is 
clearly seen in the domes of the upper plateau, while 
on the faces of the cliffs it is exhibited in arch-shaped 
recesses where masses of the lower strata have be- 
come detached and fallen away. 

The most noticeable instance of this occurs on the 
northern face of the wall at a point just to the west 
of the Washington Column. Immense fractures and 
displacements of rock have there produced natural 
arches that are very remarkable in their vast span and 
deep recession. Another example, and one which I 
always found very impressive to the imagination, 
occurs in the southward-facing shoulder of the great 
rock that commands the entrance to the valley and 
is called El Capitan. When the afternoon light is re- 
flected from that enormous polished curve, it is easy 
to imagine it to be the domed roof of some stupen- 
dous hall, whose door, like that of another Hall of 
Eblis, is that terrible half-mile cliff that faces the west. 

When the fracture and subsidence which formed 
the valley took place, the two principal streams that 
flow into the Merced River at this point, Yosemite 
Creek from the north and Bridal Veil Creek from the 
south, became at a stroke the waterfalls which are 
known by those names. The Yosemite Creek, origi- 
nating on Mount Hoffman and flowing southwesterly 
over a high granite plateau, makes in three steps a 



SURVEY OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY 7 

fall of twenty-five hundred feet, which places it, on 
the score of height, at the head of the considerable 
waterfalls of the world. The Bridal Veil Creek runs 
northwesterly and leaps over a sheer cliff of six hun- 
dred and twenty feet at the lowest point of the valley 
wall, where the upper course of the stream has fol- 
lowed a deep trough which may have been formed 
when the general subsidence took place. The other 
two great waterfalls, Vernal, of three hundred and 
twenty feet, and Nevada, of six hundred feet, occur 
near together on the course of the Merced River 
itself, in the narrow cafion which leads up to another 
and smaller valley known as the Little Yosemite. 

These four waterfalls, with their various actions and 
charms of manner, appear to form the preeminent 
attraction of the valley to the great majority of people 
who come to view its scenery. That this should be so 
is not surprising, for a waterfall is like a hot-house 
flower of Nature, a kind of rarity for exhibition ; and 
there is good reason for enthusiasm in the wonderful 
and changing beauty of the falls. But a great many 
people are captured by mere novelty, and I venture 
to think that this trifling feature is a main factor in 
the judgment which places second, or disregards alto- 
gether, the unequalled majesty of the cliffs. 

The human palate is, in fact, strangely dead to the 
majestic ingredient. How often, when I have been 
passing along a city street while some gorgeous so- 
lemnity of cloud-scenery has been offered to the gaze, 
have I marvelled to see that hardly one out of hun- 



8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

dreds or thousands of passers-by has bestowed even 
a casual glance upon it, but that their attention has 
been given entirely to the store-windows, the pave- 
ment, or the hats. There is something rather awful 
about this insensibility : what can it mean ? No doubt 
in the case of many of these oblivious ones it means 
that they are engrossed with an invisible companion, 
him whom the ceremonious Spaniards name Don Di- 
nero. But I am afraid it means also that most people 
are bored by anything great, unless it is also novel. 
As for the sky, that is an every-day afTair, and they 
do not account anything that is to be seen there to 
be worth attention. These are the people who are 
given to stage-drivers for a prey, and who find hap- 
piness in tracing those zoological resemblances which 
that valuable body of men, whose fertility of fancy 
would scarcely be inferred from a demeanor often of 
singular stolidity, have discovered to exist in the cliff- 
scenery of the great valley. 

The luxuriant forest that occupies the greater part 
of the valley floor, broken here and there by meadows, 
also is worth some share of the admiration which 
too many people reserve exclusively for the water- 
falls. Companies of pines from one hundred to two 
hundred feet high, straight, smooth, and taper as ever 
tree grew, ought not to be commonplace to most of 
us. (Certainly the birds and squirrels do not find them 
so, or they themselves could not remain so interesting 
and individual, but would tend, like us, to become 
dull and uniform. I have known a parrot who has 




THE YOSEMITE FALLS 



SURVEY OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY 9 

lived with people, and been "taught," to be dull, 
even dreadfully dull ; but I do not suppose you find 
them so on the Orinoco.) 

If it were only for the perfection of their types, these 
valley-sheltered trees, which have grown to the com- 
pletest stature of their kind in this sunny nursery, 
are full of value and interest. The yellow pine {Piiius 
ponderosa) especially shows here its finest traits, spir- 
ing up for the skies with a fervor of tree-desire that 
is indescribably stimulating, and dressed complete 
with branches that sweep in loveliness to the very 
ground. In the shadow of the south wall grows 
the Douglas spruce {Pseudotsuga taxifolia\ a Nestor 
among trees, great, strong, and wise in counsel, plated 
with dark and rugged bark, and waving plumes of 
sombre splendor in the cool wind that draws along the 
face of the cliffs. With him stands here and there the 
white silver fir {Abies concolor), tall, straight, and 
of admirable symmetry. If the Douglas is Nestor the 
white fir is Paris. 

The cedar (Libocedrus decurrens) also reaches 
here the perfect dignity of its race, and mixing 
everywhere freely among the pines brightens their 
dark richness with pyramids of ferny olive. The old 
trees of this species, fulfilling the characteristics of 
their type, are nearly always dead in their tops 
though in full career of life. They rise solemnly amid 
the forest like many-branched candlesticks, and en- 
force by their shape the vague idea of a religious as- 
sociation which is suggested by their common name 



lo YOSEMITE TRAILS 

of " incense cedar," and by the many allusions in the 
Book of Psalms to their brethren of the Lebanon for- 
ests. It is pleasant to know that the great Israelitish 
king was a man of trees as well as of war, and loved 
the merry greenwood heartily. 

Though the special glory of this forest belt lies in the 
conifers, the Yosemite is splendid in oaks also. There 
are many magnificent specimens of both evergreen 
and deciduous oak in the valley, where the balanced 
beauty of their shapes is heightened by contrast with 
the straight-pillared pines and cedars. Far up Indian 
Caiion, on the north side of the valley, there is grow- 
ing an oak that I believe would out-oak every oak 
that grows on California mountain, foothill, or plain, 
if it could be brought to the proof. Very few people 
see it, for the caiion is narrow, gloomy, and difficult 
to climb. I viewed with amazement the great wall- 
like trunk of this solitary monster. A kind of octopus 
in shape, his long grey arms go searching up and 
down the cafion as though he were feeling for a 
way out, and might presently lift his splayed foot 
and drag his Cyclopean deformity down to the 
plain, to affright the puny sons of men. 

In luxuriance of flowers the valley in spring and 
summer is notable even beyond the measure of the 
plain and foothill regions of the state. Chief in bril- 
liance, and in novelty as regards most people, of the 
spring flowers is the snow-plant {Sarcodes saitguinea)^ 
which begins to appear on the floor of the valley soon 
after the snow has melted, and astonishes the early 



SURVEY OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY ii 

visitor with its unexpected blood-red apparition. An 
unflower-like flower, it is attractive only for its glar- 
ing violence of color. Every fibre is red, the red of 
Burgundy wine. It is a Mephistopheles among plants, 
a kind of diabolical asparagus. 

While the snow-plant still blazes on the brown floor, 
the forest begins to be lighted up along every water- 
course with the six-inch blossoms of the dogwood, 
gleaming like candle-flames down the dark aisles 
of the pines, or flickering in the breeze that follows 
the flowing river. Then the violets enter, white and 
blue, and the meadows stand thick with purple cy- 
clamens. Next comes on the procession of lilies, that 
will last all through the summer ; and with them ar- 
rives the mountain-lilac {Ceanothus) in clouds of azure 
and white that emulate the very sky. Then the aza- 
leas, whose sheathed leaf-buds, like spurts of green 
flame, have waited impatiendy for the flower-buds to 
join them, break into leaf and blossom together, and 
every land-path and water-path is bordered with 
their tropical beauty and rich, exotic perfume. Wild 
roses mingle with them, delightful beyond all the rest 
with their rustic associations and wholesome dainti- 
ness of air: a very epitome of country delights in 
every breath of their frank, simple fragrance. 

As midsummer comes on. Nature takes up the full 
burden of her labor of love. Grasses grow knee-high, 
and, ripening their humble fruitage, roll in russet 
tides over the meadows and surge against the forest 
wall. Brakes stand thickly in every opening, their 



12 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

cathedral richness of tracery matching the cedar- 
sprays that fleck them with playful shadows. Oak- 
leaves gleam with a dull, healthy polish. The birds 
that have been rehearsing all the spring now give 
their full concert, and the squirrel rejoices volubly in 
the multitude of cones, which he can hardly suffer to 
ripen before he must begin to harvest them. Hum- 
mingbirds dash and whir about like little thunder- 
bolts of flaming energy, and butterflies drowse on 
drooping tassels of goldenrod. 

So, in a riot of godetia, columbine, mimulus, pent- 
stemon, lupine, and a score of others, the summer 
passes by, and autumn, when it comes, comes in such 
a rush and tumult of massed and gorgeous color that 
one never thinks to mourn for summer, dead and 
gone. Dogwood blooms again, crimson for white; 
willows and poplars are all of paly gold ; the oaks 
bum rusty-red, as befits their iron strength ; only the 
pines and cedars, of a higher breed than the rest, 
stand disdaining change and defying times and sea- 
sons. Slow lichens, purple, grey, and " melancholy 
gold '* (Ruskin's fine expression), creep like the tears 
of Time over cold granite of cliff and earthquake- 
talus, to find their summer in the yellow autumn sun- 
light that only reaches them when maple and moun- 
tain-lilac have begun to shed their leaves. 

Snow rarely falls in the valley before Christmas, al- 
though the trails of the upper levels may have been 
closed two months before, and the passes of the High 
Sierra are often sealed as early as mid-September. In 




THE YOSE 




wF^--''^^^Mam 



:e valley 



SURVEY OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY 13 

the deep hollow of the valley a long Indian summer 
holds the field with an ardor of color that is like a 
mediaeval pageant. A sky of Prussian blue enhances 
the creamy white of the cliffs and is deeply reflected 
in the calm river that now saunters and hesitates 
among shallows of sand. At night the cold leaps down 
from the upper plateaus, and the meadows are frosted 
to sallow tones of grey and drab ; but by midday the 
sun burns as if through glass with a sharp, parching 
fervor. Under it acorns ripen suddenly, falling in 
showers at every push of wind like raindrops rattling 
on a roof ; and men themselves would cure into a sort 
of raisins if there were but enough sugar in them. A 
dry electric energy is in the air, and trees and animals 
charge themselves to saturation point. As for the 
squirrels, I believe one might draw sparks from them 
by applying a knuckle. 

At last the weather breaks and the snow falls. In 
some winters only a few inches of snow may lie on 
the valley floor ; in others, many feet. But it is always 
the winter of the mountains, vivifying and kindly. 
The habitants of the valley bring out ski, sleds, and 
snow-shoes, and the hardy Norse and Saxon strain 
revives and strikes a blow for freedom. The pines 
stand as it were with folded arms, resolute and endur- 
ing, and rejoice in the Spartan severity. The water- 
falls shroud themselves in bewildering phantasmago- 
rias of ice, and act again the glacial age in little. 
Yosemite builds up a huge white cone five hundred 
feet in height ; a volcano, but of ice instead of fire. 



14 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Vernal and Nevada array themselves with giant ici- 
cles, and thunder through reverberating caverns of 
blue and green splendor. 

Gradually the balance of power reverses. The sun 
strengthens and the snows recede. The rush of falling 
water pulsates through the valley, and the river runs 
strong and dark. Somewhere the great word is 
spoken; and the old, strange striving begins once 
more in herb and bush and tree. 



CHAPTER II 

THE PRINCIPAL ROCK-FEATURES OF THE VALLEY 

WHEN one looks down into the Yosemite from 
a comprehensive vantage-ground such as In- 
spiration Point, it is seen that the cross-section shape 
of the valley is somewhat like the letter U. The walls 
are in general effect vertical ; the floor is smooth, 
level, and as a whole narrow relatively to the height 
of the walls, sweeping up at the sides to meet them 
in a natural curve formed by the debris of the cliffs. 
This debris is irregularly disposed, there being in 
some places vast accumulations and in others surpris- 
ingly little of the rock-wastage. Although enormous 
in total amount it is yet so little in view of the great 
height of the walls that have contributed it that its 
scantiness is regarded by geologists as remarkable. 
An average cross-section drawing of the valley would 
show the debris-angle as a mere trace, hardly easing 
the abruptness of the sheer plunge of the cliffs to the 
level of the floor. The greater part of the wreckage 
is supposed to have fallen in some momentous earth- 
quake that occurred not less than three hundred years 
ago, the period being determined by the age of trees 
at present growing upon the talus-slope. Evidences 
of the cataclysm are strewn thickly all up and down 



i6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the canon of the Merced River, which owes much 
of its picturesque character to the huge obstructions 
over and between which the rapid stream pours and 
pushes its way in mile upon mile of foaming cascades. 
The additions made during later centuries are so tri- 
fling in comparison as to be hardly distinguishable, 
though the slow, steadfast processes of wind and rain, 
heat and frost, topple down every year many tons 
of freshly shattered granite to add to the grey and 
lichened masses that stretch far out across the val- 
ley floor. 

At intervals along the face of the walls the time- 
darkened rock is seen to be scarred to its original 
color, and has very much the appearance of being 
whitened by frost. These scars mark the paths of 
rock-slides of recent years. To witness one such ava- 
lanche stimulates the spectator to a vivid impression 
of the majestic uproar involved in Nature's greater 
coups de maiuy such as that must have been which, 
perhaps at one blow, flung almost the whole of this 
incalculable weight of rock down into the gulf. 

Standing one day of late autumn about the middle 
of the valley, I was startled by a report like a can- 
non-shot, which filled the whole valley with echoes 
that roared and boomed, replied and multiplied, in a 
long-continued, glorious tumult. As the deafening 
sound died away in sullen mutterings under the vizor 
of El Capitan, I was able to distinguish the point of 
attack by the long, clattering descent of a vast quan- 
tity of rock. The night had^been a cold one in the 



ROCK-FEATURES OF THE VALLEY 17 

valley, while on the seven to eight thousand foot 
levels of the upper rim the temperature must have 
dropped almost to zero. Frost, working quietly with 
his Archimedean lever, had just succeeded in shifting 
from the shoulder of The Sentinel a trifle of fifty tons 
or so of granite. For near a thousand feet the boul- 
der fell sheer, swift and silent ; then striking the cliff 
it burst like a bomb, shattering into a myriad flying 
shards and splinters, and dislodging a smother of 
fragments that trickled down to the valley in a stream 
that lasted for minutes. Then, from the spot where 
the boulder had struck, dust began to rise into the 
sunny air, slowly building up and burgeoning like 
a summer cloud, and every whit as snowy. It was 
the flour of granite, powdered instantaneously by the 
terrific shock. 

As I gazed, I reflected upon the spectacular fea- 
tures of the catastrophe which we have seen dis- 
cussed in magazines as a physical possibility, — the 
collision of our planet with another stellar body. This 
proved soon to be too serious a matter for my un- 
scientific mind to contemplate calmly, and it was 
a relief to turn to the past, and admire the simple 
effectiveness of the device employed by men besieged 
in castles and walled cities, who rolled down rocks 
and other objects of useful specific gravity upon the 
heads of the obstinate persons who were coming 
upstairs on scaling-ladders. 

The southern wall is noticeably darker in its gen- 
eral color than the northern, probably for the rea- 



i8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

son that the greater degree of shade encourages a 
stronger growth of mosses and lichens, both which 
flourish extravagantly in many places. On the great 
boulders near the foot of the little Sentinel Fall, thick 
sheets of moss hang like mantles, embroidered with 
disks of lichen and distilling slow diamonds from 
their ragged edges. This side of the walls shows also 
more of those avalanche - tracks of which I have 
spoken, and more of the rock-flour of recent manu- 
facture, which, it occurred to me, might well provide 
the bread of that race of earth-giants whom one may 
imagine as inhabiting some spacious hall under the 
arched roof of El Capitan. 

I do not know of any place where the tranquil 
beauty of shadow can be so well seen and felt and 
studied as in this deep, serene valley. On this un- 
limited canvas light paints with a mighty brush, in 
broad half-miles of cobalt and purple and gold and 
grey. There is continual variety in noting the day- 
long, quiet changes ; continual variety and continual 
discovery. One may have studied El Capitan and 
The Sentinel and Half-Dome a score of times, and 
think that one knows them through and through and 
yard by yard ; but the next observation will show 
some clouding of color or massing of shadow that 
quite alters your conception. Even the solid outlines 
seem to change, and a slant of sunlight or skein of 
mist will upset the most fixed topographical conclu- 
sions. Details even of great extent may easily be 
overlooked on these huge walls, and such are apt to 



ROCK-FEATURES OF THE VALLEY 19 

be suddenly projected into visibility by some chance 
arrangement of light and shade. For instance, I 
thus became aware of a vast concavity in the face of 
El Capitan which I had never suspected, and which 
was revealed by a particular obliquity of early morn- 
ing light in a deep, shell-like bowl of shadow. The 
Three Brothers, again, seen from the southwest soon 
after sunrise, show magnificent tone effects, light and 
shadow being regularly laid in broad, alternate bands 
of such massiveness and strength as to give a new 
characteristic to this, as I feel, somewhat formal and 
uninteresting group. 

The Sentinel, that perpendicular elliptical column 
which stands about midway of the southern wall, is 
perhaps the least variable in expression of all the 
notable cliffs of the valley, standing resolutely muffled 
in shadows until the sun begins to sink to its eclipse 
behind the high promontory of El Capitan. Then his 
face glitters with fine Plutonian lines, hard and grim 
as steel on iron. To me this superb obelisk is, next to 
the Half-Dome and El Capitan, the dominant point 
of the valley ; and when I have lain awake at night 
with that tall grey spectre impending over me and 
obscuring a tenth of the host of heaven, I have been 
an Egyptian in Thebes, an Assyrian in Nineveh, a 
Martian or Saturnian for all I knew, under the spell 
of his solemn enchantment. 

At such times, also, I have tried to imagine what 
would be the sensations of a person who should be 
transported unawares to this valley, and set down at 



20 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

night among- these dimly seen shapes of rock and 
water. It would be all the better if it happened to be 
one of those moonlit but partly cloudy nights, when 
the light comes and goes here and there in sudden 
gleams and fadings. Here he would see, or doubt 
whether he saw, close beside and crowding against 
him, this perpendicular wall, which his eye would fol- 
low up and up, until he wondered where the top 
might be. Over there would be some incomprehensi- 
ble shape which must surely be a delusion of his own 
senses. Yonder where the pale column of Yosemite 
Fall glimmered in the peering light, he would see 
what might be the straight ascending camp-fire 
smoke of the departed Indian genius of the place, or 
perhaps the reek of some weird sacrifice. The falling 
waters filling the valley with hollow voices and echoes 
would confuse instead of enlightening him, and the 
subtle forest-sounds, intricate and perplexing even by 
day, would add a thousand small mysteries to his 
bewilderment. 

What El Capitan is to the western end of the val- 
ley, Half-Dome is to the eastern. And more, for it is, 
I think, incomparably the most wonderful, striking, 
and impressive feature of the region. In strangeness 
of shape this hemispherical mountain of solid granite 
is singular among the world's geological marvels, and 
its sublime height and firm, soaring outline impose it 
upon the imagination more than would be possible to 
bulk alone. Professor Whitney in his " Report of ths 
Geological Survey of California," remarks that "it 




THE SENTINEL 



ROCK-FEATURES OF THE VALLEY 21 

strikes even the most casual observer as a new reve- 
lation in mountain forms ; its existence would be con- 
sidered an impossibility if it were not there before us 
in all its reality ; it is an unique thing in mountain 
scenery, and nothing even approaching it can be 
found except in the Sierra Nevada itself." 

From every part of the upper half of the valley, the 
eye is compelled as if by the force of physical attrac- 
tion to return to this extraordinary mountain, which 
one can never tire of contemplating. One looks upon 
it almost as one would gaze at some majestic frag- 
ment of statuary ; and I sometimes wondered with 
what beautiful phantoms these cloudy domes, pearly 
cataracts, amethystine gulfs, and sylvan depths of 
forest would have been peopled if Yosemite had fallen 
to ancient Greece. For even the matter-of-fact mod- 
ern mind, surrounded by forms so unusual and 
heights so solemn, tends to unwarrantable flights of 
imagination ; and one is apt to find one's self ponder- 
ing why, as much as how, they were brought into 
being. 

The Half-Dome possesses one feature in particular 
that I always found remarkable and charming, — 
the strange manner in which it catches and holds 
the last light of the day. Often for a full hour after 
the valley has sunk into shadow, this high Alp, over- 
looking by two thousand feet the intervening heights, 
receives the western glow, and like a great heliograph 
reflects the peaceful messages of the evening over all 
the quiet valley. 



22 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The most eccentric of all the rock-shapes is the 
double-pinnacled tower called Cathedral Spires, which 
forms a part of the southern wall near the western 
end of the valley, and rises, a sheer monolith, to a 
height of twenty-six hundred feet above the floor 
level. It is not often that one meets with any really 
cogent resemblance between Nature's large, artless 
architecture and man's self-conscious handiwork, but 
in this case the coincidence is quite sufficiently strik- 
ing to warrant the name (although in my opinion 
the naming of natural objects with regard to such 
resemblances is always a reprehensible practice). 
Old inhabitants recall that the rock originally termi- 
nated in three pinnacles, but one of them fell decades 
ago from its high estate, and only a whitish scar 
close beside the bases of the remaining two marks 
the spot where it stood. There is, so far as I am 
aware, no representation extant of the appearance 
of this third turret, which must have fallen prior to 
the year 1864, under which date King refers to "the 
two sharp, slender minarets of granite " ; but if it 
was at all conformable to its companion spires the 
peculiarity of the circumstance would be greatly en- 
hanced. 

In the little oak-shaded cemetery under Yosemite 
Point, where the fathers of the valley are sleeping, 
a fragment of this rock marks the grave of James C. 
Lamon, who died in the year 1875, and whose name 
still clings to the orchard which he planted near the 
junction of the Tenaya Creek with the river. His 



ROCK-FEATURES OF THE VALLEY 23 

friend John Conway, who, one of the last of the old 
backwoodsmen of the region, still lives in the Chow- 
chilla country, a few miles to the south, with fine 
imagination chose this fallen sky-steeple from which 
to hew the simple monument of "the pioneer settler 
of Yosemite." Not many of us can hope for a me- 
morial as impressive and dignified. 

A notable object of this end of the valley is the 
great castle-like pile which stands just to the west of 
the Cathedral Spires and is known as Cathedral 
Rocks. Here again a particular condition of light is 
needed to give the mass its true power of outline. I 
used to find this an unimpressive agglomeration of 
shapeless humps, offering an almost irritating con- 
trast to the powerful lines of El Capitan on the oppo- 
site side of the valley, and only imposing by a certain 
doggedness of contour. But under a late afternoon 
sun I have seen the group draw into coherence, and 
reveal a stateliness and quietude of proportion that 
I was careful, whenever I passed them afterwards, to 
remember. 

The dome-shaped formation which is the marked 
geological feature of the region, and which is seen 
on a vast scale in every view of the upper plateau, 
is perfectly illustrated at one point along the valley 
wall, where North Dome stands above the salient 
angle of the Washington Column. It is a conspicu- 
ous object from nearly all positions, facing the Half- 
Dome across the gulf of the Tenaya Cafion ; a pol- 
ished helmet of granite, rising in a pure curve from 



24 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

a clif! that plunges directly to the valley floor. The 
south and west inclines of the curve are marked by 
deep fractures which reveal clearly the concentric 
laminations of the structure. 

Of these laminations, Professor Whitney says that 
** the curves are arranged strictly with reference to 
the surface of the masses of rock, showing clearly 
that they must have been produced by the contrac- 
tion of the material while cooling or solidifying, and 
also giving very strongly the impression that, in 
many places, we see something of the original shape 
of the surface, as it was when the granitic mass as- 
sumed its present position." It is well to bear this in 
mind, for one is tempted to refer these flowing, con- 
vex outlines to glacial action, the traces of which, 
being so evident throughout the Yosemite region, 
may easily betray the judgment of the layman. It is 
natural to the unlearned to conclude that the phe- 
nomenon of the domes, accompanied as it is every- 
where by striking evidences of glacial denudation, 
indicates the modelling of the ordinary rugged shapes 
of mountains by this agency ; especially in view of 
the fact that no example of the dome appears among 
the highest peaks, whence the glaciers proceeded, 
and further, that glacial action is clearly shown on 
many of the domes up to their very summits. 

I have not found in the notes of geologists who 
have surveyed this region any explanation of the pe- 
culiar structure, nor any definite statement as to the 
depth to which the shell-like formation extends. Mr. 



ROCK-FEATURES OF THE VALLEY 25 

King indeed observes, referring particularly to El Cap- 
itan, that the structure appears to be superficial, never 
descending more than a hundred feet ; but in the case 
of the Royal Arches, where the vaulting is most 
remarkable, it is seen at a much greater depth ; and 
the insignificant fractures which occur everywhere 
on the walls but are too small to be noticed except as 
one passes close to them in climbing the trails to 
the upper levels, appear to indicate in a multitude of 
instances the same general construction. 

It is one more anomaly of the Half-Dome that the 
two-thousand-foot vertical precipice of the northern 
face shows no trace of the concentric stratification 
beyond the thin, overhanging lip at the brink, al- 
though its exterior sculpture strongly illustrates the 
formation. 

The imagination finds a fascinating exercise in try- 
ing to reconstruct the appearance of the valley dur- 
ing its glacial period. There is evidence that the gla- 
cier which occupied it was at one time not less than 
a thousand feet in depth. From the three main ca- 
fions, the Tenaya, the Merced, and the Illilouette, trib- 
utary glaciers converged, crowding with resistless, 
elemental movement into the box-like enclosure, surg- 
ing up in medial and lateral ridges, and broken by 
profound crevasses as the ice-river swept around the 
compressing angles and buttresses of the walls. It 
would be a stormy lake of ice, its surface ever rear- 
ing up into a new confusion of monstrous shapes ; 
and over the surrounding cliffs ever and anon icy 



26 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

blocks and masses would fall crashing from the brinks, 
filling the sullen arctic air with solemn uproar. 

Traces of the successive terminal moraines of the 
glacier are still visible to the geologic eye at several 
points of the valley floor. These moraines probably 
operated as dams, holding back the water that issued 
from the retreating glacier and forming the lake which 
eventually replaced it. This in turn gave place to a 
meadow formed by the deposit of sediment ; and with 
the arrival of heavier vegetation there ensued at 
length the present epoch of the valley. 

If the future is to continue the revolutions of the 
past, this loveliest of valleys may still be destined to 
be the battle-ground of geologic forces ; and perhaps 
it is only our stiffness of imagination that persuades 
us that the captains will not be as heroic as those 
of old. 




THE HALF-DOME 



CHAPTER III 

SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE NOMENCLATURE 
OF THE VALLEY 

I FIND it difficult to proceed further without reliev- 
ing myself of some observations upon the names 
that have become, I fear, firmly fixed upon many of 
the principal features of the valley. I own that I do 
not expect to find that my point of view is shared by 
a majority of people, but I am sure, nevertheless, 
that there must be a large number of persons whose 
appreciation and enjoyment of natural beauty are dis- 
turbed by the association with it of a name based on 
some inopportune feat of humor (or the lack of it), or 
on some inept sentimentality. 

Particularly irritating examples occur in the names 
of two small waterfalls at the lower end of the valley. 
At the northwest angle of El Capitan a small creek 
pours down in a fall of thirty-three hundred feet. It 
is a charming fall, peculiarly airy and childlike; but 
the pleasure with which one views it is far from being 
enhanced by its fatuous name of The Virgin's Tears. 
(Ribbon Fall is now adopted as the official title, but 
the other, unanimously backed by the Jehus, easily 
holds the field.) On the opposite side of the valley, a 
small, inconstant stream known as Meadow Brook 



28 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

executes a fall which has received the name of The 
Widow's Tears. This sickly designation, which bears 
all the marks of stage-driver origin even before your 
whip delivers himself of the jocose explanation that 
the fall only lasts for two or three weeks, has actu- 
ally received official sanction, and appears upon the 
maps of the Geological Survey. This will never do : 
is it too much to hope that a dignified Department 
of the National Service will refuse to perpetuate this 
trumpery appellation, and in future maps employ the 
natural title of Meadow Brook Fall ? 

The name of Inspiration Point is hardly less ob- 
jectionable. That famous spot gives what is perhaps 
the most admirable of all the many great views of 
the region. No doubt all of us ought to, and most of 
us do, acquire a certain amount of inspiration from 
the inexpressible beauty of the landscape that opens 
from this renowned station. But I do not think that 
it enhances the fine impression, rather I am sure for 
my own part that it belittles it, to be notified that you 
are expected to feel inspired. The old Adam is a per- 
verse rogue, and resents these instructions ; and 
while it may be to an extent interesting to know that 
some worthy gentleman who preceded you expe- 
rienced here certain creditable emotions, it is irritat- 
ing to have it conveyed in the very name of the 
place that you ought to suffer the same ecstasy. In- 
spiration, in any case, is a timid bird, which appears 
without advertisement, delights not in sign-boards, 
and the louder it is whistled for is the more apt to 



NOMENCLATURE OF THE VALLEY 29 

refuse to come. I have heard the spot spoken of by 
warm and jocular young gentlemen as Perspiration 
Point ; and although that species of witticism is, gen- 
erally speaking, distasteful to me, I find that I sufier 
no pang when it is practised at the expense of this 
piece of pedantry. 

Another instance of this obtrusive suggestion oc- 
curs in the name of Artists' Point. I imagine an ar- 
tist arriving unexpectedly (as an artist should arrive 
on the scenes of his successes) at this spot, whence 
he sees with rejoicing a most true and perfect land- 
scape, without fear and without reproach. Eagerly he 
seizes upon it and marks it for his own ; and with 
hasty fingers he prepares the instruments of his craft, 
calling upon Winsor and Newton. He sits down and 
begins those operations which answer to a prelimi- 
nary survey in engineering. Suddenly he perceives, 
close by, an object that looks strangely like a sign- 
post. He reconnoitres it in the manner of the wood- 
pecker in the story : ** Looks like a sign-post ; ugly 
enough for a sign-post ; blamed if I don't believe it is 
a sign-post." Hurriedly he rises and approaches it : 
it is a sign-post ; and it informs him that this is the 
spot from which, as a matter of course, artists are 
expected to paint the valley. ** Good heavens I " he 
cries, ** am I to be Number Four Hundred and Sev- 
enty-three ? " and he loathes the stale sweetness like 
a man who might discover that his bride had been 
three times divorced. 

Bridal Veil Fall suffers, although not so severely, 



30 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

from the same ill-judged sentimentalism as The Vir- 
gin's Tears. Why may we not be left to discover 
these resemblances, or what others we prefer, for 
ourselves? Surely what is wanted is a name, and 
not a descriptive title reflecting the idiosyncrasies 
of some person who chanced to be early on the 
scene and hastened to take advantage of the fact. In 
some instances we know the offender by his own 
avowal. Dr. Bunnell, in his book of personal reminis- 
cences entitled "The Discovery of the Yosemite," 
says, — 

** The most of the names were selected by myself, 
and adopted by our command." (He is not here 
using the idiom of royalty, but by " our command " 
refers to the Mariposa Battalion, the body of men 
who under Major Savage in 185 1 discovered the val- 
ley while pursuing marauding Indians.) ** This defer- 
ence was awarded to my selections because I was 
actively interested in acquiring the Indian names 
and significations, and because I was considered the 
most interested in the scenery." 

One can but wish that the names which interested 
him so much had suited him better. 

There can be no great objection to such titles as El 
Capitan, The Sentinel, and so on; although even 
there I think pure names would be preferable. Clouds' 
Rest and Washington Column are harmless, and the 
naming of the domes, as North, Half, and Sentinel, 
is well enough. But one may wish that Mr. Watkins 
had been denied his mountain, and Mr. Murphy his 



NOMENCLATURE OF THE VALLEY 31 

dome, if it were only for the sake of the poets yet to 
be. What will they do with such monsters ? I confess 
I am thankful that Wordsworth had no such problems 
to encounter, but instead such gentle giants as Glara- 
mara and Helvellyn. Derwentwater, moreover, is 
better than Lake McGee, and Martindale than Jack- 
ass Meadows. 

When it is a question of trees, flowers, and animals, 
it is reasonable enough to designate species by the 
names of their discoverers (though Clarke crow is un- 
fortunate in some indefinite way), and the latinized 
terminations give a dignified flavor. These things 
are more or less intimate and personal. But when it 
is a mountain that is to be baptized some adequacy 
should be observed, and the names of none but dis- 
tinguished men bestowed upon them ; nor those if for 
any reason they are inappropriate. 

The obviously best thing would be to keep to the 
native names as far as they go, and in adding to them 
to eschew local and temporary considerations. The 
only valid objection to the use of the Indian names 
would be in cases where they were too obstreperous in 
pronunciation, which is seldom the fact. The longest 
of them all consist of five syllables, and in every case 
the sounds are simple and characteristic, and often 
also euphonious ; as, for instance, PatilPima, for the 
spot which we somewhat inconsequently call Gla- 
cier Point ; Lo'ya, signifying a camp or signal station, 
the name for Sentinel Rock ; and Ahwah'nee, mean- 
ing a deep valley, which was the name of the valley 



32 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

itself, Yosemite being the name of the tribe that 
inhabited it at the time of its discovery. 

I acknowledge that it is a matter of difficulty, at 
this day, to secure an exact interpretation, if that 
were necessary, or even a reasonably certain pho- 
netic spelling, of the early Indian names. In the hope 
of getting some light upon a number of disputed 
points of this nature, I one evening interviewed at 
his camp a friendly Indian (friendly in more than the 
official sense) who I had reason to think might speak 
with authority. He had been born in the valley, in 
the old, peaceful days of " heap deer, heap acorn, 
heap big time," and was highly intelligent, willing 
to impart his lore, and confident of its accuracy ; but 
after five minutes of conversation my hopes faded, 
and in ten, died. 

It was a picturesque scene, at least. With Miguel 
was a younger Indian and the latter' s squaw, who by 
the uncertain light worked silently upon a half-fin- 
ished basket of handsome shape and design. We 
held our philological powwow by a flickering fire 
that burned under an aged cedar. Ten yards away 
was a party of women and girls who were seated on 
the ground around a larger fire that threw brigand- 
ish, ruddy lights upon jetty eyes, ropes and curtains 
of dusky hair, glistening teeth, tawny cheeks, and 
dirty but shapely feet. Necklaces of beads, blue, red, 
and yellow, threw in a vivacious sprinkling of color 
that happily relieved the shapeless squalor of " store " 
garments of the kind that describe themselves with 



NOMENCLATURE OF THE VALLEY 33 

innocent precision as ** wrappers." Some of the girls 
were quite pretty, though it required an effort to sup- 
pose that any of the older women could ever have 
been so. 

Surly dogs, the intricacies of whose breed would 
defy the sagacity of Seven Dials, prowled, growled, 
and occasionally howled in the shadowy purlieus, and 
the round sleek visage of a pappoose, strapped in its 
basket-cradle, appeared in a solemn and intermit- 
tent manner from behind the bandannaed back of a 
wrinkled squaw. Something in a pot over the fire 
sputtered in an interesting manner, and was occa- 
sionally stirred with a twig by the woman with the 
pappoose, upon whom, after every such operation, 
she economically bestowed the twig with its adher- 
ing nourishment. 

r; This party paid no attention to us, but maintained 
an animated conversation among themselves, accom- 
panied with an obbligato of pleasant, low-toned laugh- 
ter. Finding my Indian at one moment in doubt how 
to explain to me some fine shade of meaning, I sug- 
gested that we might consult the women at the other 
fire. But this Miguel promptly negatived, dismissing 
the idea with a contemptuous gesture and, " Pai-utes ; 
no good" ; the younger man and the squaw signify- 
ing their agreement by sardonic gruntings. 

The Pai-utes of the Mono Desert region on the 
eastern side of the Sierra are in the habit of repairing 
yearly to the Yosemite for the purpose of sharing in 
the double harvest, — first of the tourists, later of 



34 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

acorns ; and for some reason which I could not dis- 
cover, their Yosemite neighbors seem to be willing 
to suffer this encroachment. It may be that the prin- 
ciples of Free Trade, although they have by no 
means fulfilled among larger communities the gener- 
ous hopes of the founders of the doctrine by abolish- 
ing racial and national jealousies, are succeeding in 
this small instance, where the exchanges are such 
humble matters as acorns and pifion-nuts. 

My faith in Miguel's ability as an interpreter was 
badly shaken early in our interview when he averred 
that many of the Indian words which I propounded 
to him had no meanings whatever. One after an- 
other of them was declared to be " Just name, all 
same your name ; not mean nothing." In vain I la- 
bored with him, refusing to believe that it could be 
as he said, and almost feeling the sincerity of Hiawa- 
tha himself to be hanging on the event. Now and 
then he would verify one of my examples, with an 
air so frank that I could not suppose him to be de- 
liberately misleading me when, the next moment, he 
declared some supposed interpretation to be ** White 
man story ; no good." When I argued that even 
white men's names meant something he was vastly 
interested, but became sceptical when I was at a loss 
to expound my own at his request. And it was not 
reassuring to be told, when I put it to him that, after 
all, the versions I proposed to him had certainly been 
given by some of his people, " Some time white 
man fool Indian ; some time Indian fool white man 



NOMENCLATURE OF THE VALLEY 35 

maybe." This sounded so alarming at the end of 
our lengthy debate that I thought it best to retire 
with what few corroborations I had secured, for fear 
that a fuller revelation might come ; and I did not 
in the sequel act upon my friend's cordial invitation, 
"You come 'gain, I tell you some more." 

The interview at least left me with a high respect 
for the Cherokee Sequoyah (after whom the giant 
trees and redwoods of California have been fittingly 
named), who early in the last century achieved the 
feat of reducing the Indian languages to eighty-six 
syllabic characters. It is unfortunate that his labors 
did not result in spreading the art of writing among 
the native populations, which would have availed to 
define more or less exactly the sound-syllables and 
their meanings. Any language that is spoken only, 
not written, must tend to a looseness of pronuncia- 
tion, extending to the length of neighboring tribes, 
originally speaking the same language, becoming 
mutually unintelligible. 

A case in point is the word Yosemite itself, which 
Miguel stoutly affirmed to be no Indian word what- 
ever, declaring that the real word was Er-her'-ma-te 
(h guttural), signifying a bear. The difference is no 
doubt one merely of local pronunciation ; but the diffi- 
culty of identifying these elusive sounds is even better 
illustrated in the word Illilouette. The early geogra- 
phers of the valley attempted in this case to adhere to 
the Indian name of the waterfall, but failed to fix the 
sound in English characters nearer than Illilouette 



36 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

for Too-loo'-lo-wy-ak, which spelling" closely repre- 
sents the Indian word. Considerable as the diver- 
gence is, it is not surprising to one who has contended 
with similar problems ; but it seems a gratuitous flour- 
ish to furnish a supposed Indian name with the galli- 
cized termination "ette"; an anomaly which adver- 
tises its own monstrosity. 

In the early " Guide-book to the Yosemite " pre- 
pared by Professor Whitney, he delved somewhat 
deeply into the intricacies of the Indian names of 
localities in the region, and gave a comprehensive list 
of them. But he was fain to conclude his remarks 
upon the subject with the confession, — "The discre- 
pancies between the statements of the different inter- 
preters it is beyond our power to reconcile." In the 
same book he offered a suggestion which I could 
wish might have been adopted, — that the general 
title of the Cordilleras of North America should be 
used to designate the whole system of our Western 
mountain ranges. It would be a good appellation 
geographically, and an excellent one imaginatively, 
wafting the mind back to the day-dream mountains of 
boyhood, when we roved with friendly Gauchos over 
boundless llanos in the shadow of the mighty Andes. 



CHAPTER IV 

A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM: FORT MONROE 
TO THE LITTLE YOSEMITE 

FOR some time I had wished to make the complete 
circuit of the upper levels adjacent to the Yosem- 
ite Valley when the opportunity at last came to do 
so, partly in the company of a congenial friend. This 
was Mr. Carl Eytel, an artist whom the heats of sum- 
mer had driven from his beloved Colorado Desert, 
where I had last encountered him among the palms 
and alkali of that sun-blistered region. 

I had frequently, in argument with him, urged the 
preeminence of the pine over the palm, if only on the 
ground of the greater amount of drawing in it. But 
Eytel is a colorist, and when he takes the argument 
on to that ground there is no following him ; for you 
cannot argue about color, which every man perceives 
differently according to his spiritual composition. 

We left the valley on a fine morning of mid-August, 
with the two burros who were to carry our necessities 
for the trip, — Adam, a sedate old grey, and Teddy, 
a young black with no marked characteristics other 
than a striking appetite. I always feel that I owe a 
special debt to nature for providing this humble beast 
of burden, for in many expeditions into the mountains 



38 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

I have found him better suited to my needs than either 
the lordly horse or that durable hybrid which occupies 
the middle place in the equine scale. My purposes 
usually require a slow pace and frequent stoppages, 
and the constitution of the burro is such that he is 
naturally disposed to conform to my wishes in this 
regard, and often, indeed, to exceed them. 

Our plan was to ascend to the south rim of the 
valley by way of the Wawona stage-road, and then, 
taking the Pohono trail which leaves the road at 
Fort Monroe, to proceed east to Glacier Point. Thence 
we would follow the so-called Long trail to the head 
of the Nevada Fall, and instead of descending to the 
valley and climbing to the north side by the Eagle 
Peak trail, I (alone from this point) intended to take 
the Sunrise trail northeasterly to the Tuolumne 
Meadows, and thence to double back westwards by 
way of the old Tioga " road." Leaving that relic of 
adventurous engineering before it turns northerly at 
Porcupine Flat, I proposed to take the southwesterly 
trail to the head of the Yosemite Falls, and then to 
continue westwards, passing Eagle Peak, to the sum- 
mit of El Capitan. From there I hoped to be able to 
follow the old trail out to Gentry's Saw-Mill, and so 
to return to the valley by the Big Oak Flat road, thus 
making a complete circumambulation. 

The road to Fort Monroe was hot and dusty, but 
mitigated with cool streams and intervals of grateful 
forest and enlivened by many tracks of deer and 
bear. The afternoon sunlight was streaming full into 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 39 

the valley as we reached Artists* Point. The narrow- 
ness of the gateway as it is seen from this point 
brings out strongly the gorge-like character of the 
depression, and in my opinion renders this the most 
striking of all the comprehensive views of the won- 
derful valley. When we reached Inspiration Point it 
lacked only an hour of sunset. The vast shadow of 
El Capitan lay already far across the valley, and a 
long purple promontory ran out from the foot of 
Three Brothers. I was reminded of the line of Virgil, by 
which, it is said, Millet was always deeply affected, — 

** Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae." * 

Certainly it harmonizes well with his sombre and 
sensitive genius. 

We camped at Fort Monroe, and ate our supper 
between exclamations at the sunset color on the pines 
and cedars on the opposite hillside. The level light 
illuminated the forest with a radiance that was inde- 
scribably royal and august, and the great trees stood 
thoughtful and reverent, ripening their harvest in the 
golden air. 

From just beyond our camp there opened a won- 
derful outlook to the west. The land here falls away 
almost precipitously two thousand feet to the cafion of 
the Merced, where it forms a sweeping amphitheatre 
at the point where Tamarack Creek enters from the 
north. Opposite, the unbroken forest rises to the high 
ridge that is held by the Merced Grove of Sequoias, 
* *' And the great shadows fall from the high mountains." 



40 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

and which here forms the watershed between the 
Merced and Tuolumne systems. 

In the gathering dusk the myriad pinnacles of the 
forest rose into a pale, clear sky, down which the 
new moon passed musingly to sink behind the west- 
ern mountains. 

I awoke several times during the night, noting the 
changes of the stars. Toward morning the sky be- 
came covered with fleecy clouds, through which now 
and then a star gleamed for a moment and was 
quickly obscured. By morning the sky cleared some- 
what, and when, after breakfast, we walked back down 
the road to Inspiration Point, the sun shone inter- 
mittently through cloud openings of spiritual grey, 
and touched the white foot of El Capitan with pale, 
shifting gleams. 

By the middle of the morning we weighed anchor, 
and leaving the road took the Pohono trail. The ani- 
mals rebelled a little at the first steep rise, as imply- 
ing harder times in store, but when we got fairly 
under way Adam went well in the lead, while Teddy 
— somewhat strangely, as we remarked — seemed 
well content with the second place. 

The peculiar beauty of the Pohono trail lies in the 
forest through which it passes. At this western end 
the timber is mixed of cedar, sugar pine, yellow pine, 
white fir and Douglas spruce, with a scattering of small 
oaks ; but when at about 7000 feet the main level is 
reached, the red fir {Abies magnified) takes possession. 
This superb tree here often attains a height of two hun- 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 41 

dred feet, and even more. The stem is a fine shaft of 
dusky purple, and the broad curving fans of dark blue- 
green foliage, edged as if with an effervescent spray 
or froth by the silver-grey of the young growth, give 
the tree a special richness and nobility of color. Im- 
posing as are all the conifers of this forest, to me 
none other of them quite equals in distinction and 
stateliness this magnificent fir. 

The previous winter had been unusually severe, 
and the five feet of snow which had lain on the floor 
of the valley must have been more than trebled on 
the upper levels. The result was a profusion of cones 
on all the full-grown trees which was remarkable. 
Here and there a sugar pine could be seen which 
flowed gracefully over at the head like the top of a 
fountain under the weight of its fruitage, and the 
barrel-like cones of the firs were piled on the upper 
branches until the last inch of room was taken. 

We sauntered easily along, noting these and a 
thousand other things, until we emerged unexpect- 
edly at the brink. Looking down into the valley from 
that dizzy precipice, and over to the savage wilder- 
ness of grey and wrinkled granite that sweeps round 
to north and east, we agreed that the prospect sur- 
passed any other that we had seen. The outer semi- 
circle was a billowy expanse of peaks swimming in 
summer haze, but with dark clouds banked heavily 
above them. ** Terrible, terrible I " said Eytel; and so 
it was. Three times, at Crocker, Stanford, and Dewey 
Points, the trail opens upon these amazing landscapes 



42 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

which are enhanced, if that is possible, by the sudden- 
ness with which they break upon the obscurity of 
the forest. 

The trail is crossed by many small streams, and 
varied with oases of verdure. Epilobium was still in 
flower though it was long past midsummer, and the 
azalea blossom was only lately dead, and hung in 
shrivelled clusters of grey among the glossy leaves. 
Hazels grew plentifully, and we gathered nuts like 
schoolboys, though as they were hardly ripe the sat- 
isfaction lay principally in the sentimental and retro- 
spective aspect of the feast. 

Five hours ' easy travel brought us to Bridal Veil 
Creek, and crossing it we went into camp by early 
evening. The stream was low, and half an hour 's fish- 
ing resulted only in fingerlings, which were returned 
to the water to grow into fish of nobler degree. 

Tracks of bear and mountain-lion had been fairly 
plentiful along the trail, and before turning in we 
picketed our animals securely in anticipation of a 
scare. But only the humpiness of a badly chosen 
sleeping-place disturbed our slumbers. We arose at 
dawn, and before the sun reached us were well on the 
trail. 

The early morning hours are always the cream of 
time, but most of all is it so in the forest. It is then, 
even more than at evening, that the profoundest 
peacefulness that is possible to us on this earth is re- 
alized, so long as one is not in a hurry. The nerves, 
which at evening are settling into rest in a long de- 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 43 

crescendo^ in the morning are at zero. We for our part 
had plenty of time, for we had determined beforehand 
that we would not attempt to cover more than ten 
miles or so a day. Our animals stopped every min- 
ute to refresh themselves with seductive grasses, while 
we, far from rebuking them, lounged gently along, 
listening to the heavenly voices of the birds and de- 
lighting ourselves with the flowers. In the meadows 
hidden rills ran tinkling among delicate carices mixed 
with purple epilobium, lavender geranium and sultry 
yellow goldenrod ; while at one spot a few blossoms, 
and even buds, of late wild-rose gave us the sweetest 
greeting of all. 

Squirrels, jays, and woodpeckers were loquacious 
with table-talk. As the sun rose and the shadows of 
the great tree-stems fell purple on mats of dwarf 
ceanothus and manzanita, the leaves of the aspens, 
which had hung languid and unmoving since the 
dawn-wind stirred them three hours before, began to 
swing and dangle lazily, and then as the breeze came 
up started off as if driven by an engine at full 
pressure. 

Turning north after two or three miles, the trail 
ran out again to the rim of the valley at The Fis- 
sures. The fissures themselves are sufficiently remark- 
able, — vertical clefts in the west face of a deep side- 
cafion which opens on the valley opposite Eagle 
Peak. These clefts, so narrow at the top that boul- 
ders of no large size which have fallen into them are 
caught and held in the jaws of the fracture, are of 



44 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

great depth, apparently reaching almost to the bot- 
tom of the cliff. But the great precipice of the abut- 
ment of the side-cafion itself is still more impressive. 
The bench-mark of the Geological Survey gives the 
height of this point as 7503 feet. The cliff is there- 
fore thirty-five hundred feet in height above the val- 
ley floor, three hundred feet higher than Glacier 
Point, and on a level with Eagle Peak and El Capi- 
tan, which it faces. The top, stained with lichens in 
vivid yellow, Indian red, and purple, overhangs con- 
siderably, projecting a magnificent profile against 
the opposite wall of the valley. 

The cafion of the Yosemite Creek presents from 
this point an interesting appearance. Its whole course 
lies open to the eye as if drawn on a map, from the 
thin line of falling water which marks the top of the 
cataract back to Mount Hoffman and the crest of the 
southern wall of the Tuolumne Cafion, which bounds 
the watershed. 

There is no mountain in the immediate Yosemite 
region that surpasses Mount Hoffman in grandeur 
of oudine. Its isolated position on the great plateau 
of granite which stretches northward from the rim of 
the valley renders it a commanding object. From 
this point it rises in imposing bulk in the northeast. 
Trending up in long slopes from a base of great ex- 
tent, it sweeps up to a height of nearly 11,000 feet 
by grades which are nowhere sharp or precipitous, 
and conveys a remarkable impression of massiveness 
by the simplicity of its lines. 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 45 

A short distance further brought us within sight 
of Sentinel Dome, and soon we emerged upon the 
stage-road. There is a little emerald meadow here- 
abouts which I had noticed the previous year, and 
had made an engagement with myself to camp there 
when the opportunity offered. I have a liking for 
making these engagements. They cannot often be 
kept, and I have always many outstanding; but 
there is an additional satisfaction in camping where 
one of them can be fulfilled. Turning off from the 
road, with its diurnal stages and humiliating tokens 
of the chewing-gum age, we crossed the plushy oasis 
enclosed among firs and tamaracks, and camped on 
the farther side among mint, cyclamens, and lupines, 
and under a superb red fir whose branches swept 
almost to the ground. 

A tranquil Sunday was ushered in by a pageant at 
sunrise. A hundred yards to the south the ground 
rose to a fine view with Half-Dome almost in the 
foreground, and HofTman, Clark, and Red Moun- 
tain the prominent peaks of the middle distance. The 
sun rose flashing immediately at the head of the 
Little Yosemite, and sent long, tremulous beams 
searching down into the cafion of the Illilouette and 
up into gulfs of cloud that glowed with volcanic fires 
above the sullen horizon of the south. As the day 
went on the sky attained its cloudless California blue, 
and the distant line of the Sierra shimmered under a 
powerful sun, while the snow-banks that enamelled 
the northern slopes glistened with a pearly softness. 



46 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

On Monday we stayed still in camp, sketching and 
photographing the trees, tamarack, the two firs, and 
the Jeffrey variety of yellow pine, all which here offer 
excellent specimens for observation. Some climbing 
also had to be done to secure unopened cones of the 
fir, and when I finally descended after several of 
these expeditions I was well plastered with pitch and 
balsam and altogether in a highly inflammable con- 
dition. 

I do not know of any vegetable object that is more 
poetic and generous in appearance than the cone of 
the red fir. The great velvety cylinders take on as 
they ripen a rich, peach-like bloom, and an almost 
spirituous perfume exhales from the balsam with 
which they are saturated. As the cones grow only 
on the upper branches, and do not fall but dissipate 
upon the tree, they are by no means as well-known 
objects as are the cones of the pines and spruces, 
which everywhere litter the forest floor, and any one 
is well repaid who climbs into the fragrant world 
where they grow. He will receive a revelation of the 
profusion and affluence of nature that will fill him 
with admiration, and moreover will refresh himself 
with recollections of the bird's-nesting exploits of 
youth. 

In the afternoon I climbed the southern shoulder 
of Sentinel Dome, enjoying the march over the clean, 
wholesome pavement that stretches like an apron 
around the swell of the dome, and relishing the bite 
of the good hob-nails into the crumbling granite. 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 47 

The surface of the rock has weathered into a coarse 
grit, a kind of granite hail. In the cleavage joints 
pines have taken root and form a scanty forest. I 
was amused by the grotesqueness of the shapes of 
these unconquerable trees, which have undertaken 
not only to sustain, but to propagate themselves 
under almost impossible conditions. I came upon 
aged firs seven or eight feet high, knotted and bat- 
tered of body and leaning on their elbows, whose 
shivering branches grimly held up a score or two of 
cones and seemed to flourish them at the wind in 
scornful defiance. I could not refrain from crying 
** Go it ! " to these heroes. 

On the precise summit of the round a Jeffrey pine 
has established itself, the trunk a shapeless, rooty 
mass and the limbs blown away horizontally to the 
east. Its branches are like iron, its twigs like whip- 
cord, and its needles like steel. It is a small tree, but 
I judge its age must be numbered in hundreds of 
years. 

Leaving camp early the next morning we followed 
the stage-road as far as Glacier Point. Mount Hoff- 
man rose again grandly on our left, and Half-Dome, 
Clark, and Starr King more easterly. Now and again 
a white gleam among the trees revealed the position 
of the Vernal and Nevada Falls, and their distant 
roar rose continuously to our ears like the incessant 
beating of surf on the shore. It was even possible to 
see the great cloud of spray that streams out from 
the foot of Vernal. 



48 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The granite ocean to north and east was veiled in 
a thin, milky blue (the blue that milk so often is 
though it should not be). The forest lay in well-defined 
folds and creases, rising here and there to the sky- 
line ; but the main ridge of the crests stood barren, 
sharp and clearly cut against a pale cerulean sky. The 
voices of the birds, plaintively sweet, seemed like 
a fine embroidery upon the background of silence 
and space. 

Doubling southward at Glacier Point we began 
the long descent to the bed of the Illilouette Creek. 
As part of the so-called Long trail this route is trav- 
elled every year by thousands of tourists from the 
valley, under the convoy of realistic guides whose 
bear-skin "chaps" are artfully designed to thrill the 
Easterner with a touch of genuine Western life. We 
stumbled rapidly down this well-worn trail, while the 
dust rose in clouds and the animals complained 
loudly as we urged them to persevere. 

Near the bottom we emerged at the edge of the clifi 
over which the Illilouette Creek plunges to join the 
Merced. The fall is broken a hundred feet or so be- 
low the lip by ledges on* which the water breaks, and 
spreads like a film over the face of the cliff. The 
lower half of the descent is a smooth wall, all but ver- 
tical, down which the water spurts, hissing with enor- 
mous velocity, gathering at the bottom into a rapid 
stream, and rushing among huge boulders through 
a wild and sunless cafion to its junction with the main 
river. The amount of water flowing was small, but 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 49 

the energy and beauty of the fall surpassed my 
expectations. 

The Illilouette Creek itself in its upper course is 
of an attractive and stimulating appearance, flowing 
in a wide bed that shows interesting glacial character- 
istics. I booked it for exploration at some future time 
back to its sources among the cluster of peaks known 
as the Merced group. 

After crossing the creek the trail bears northeast- 
erly, climbing to a height of 6700 feet, where it skirts 
the edge of the cliff which forces the river into the 
gorge of Vernal Fall. Fine views opened now and 
again of the upper end of the valley, and I observed, 
what I had not before been aware of, that at the 
eastern end of the Royal Arches the rock ends in an 
impressive vertical fracture, falling to a deeply curved 
recess. Basket Dome I found to be cut away on its 
eastern face in the same manner ; both fractures pos- 
sibly having occurred at the same time that Half- 
Dome suffered his frightful amputation. 

As the trail begins to round the extreme eastern 
end of the valley the eye takes in at a glance the 
majestic nature of the Yosemite sculpture. To the 
left rises for three thousand feet the huge rock which 
forms the abutment between the valley proper and 
the Illilouette Caiion. Opposite, the profile of Mount 
Broderick sweeps up steeply to a hardly less height ; 
and between lies the green and level valley, the product 
of the enormous grinding energy of the ice-river. 

A steep descent through heavy timber brought us 



50 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

to the open plateau at the head of the Nevada Fall. 
The river here flows smooth and silent to the edge 
of the clif! over which it goes thundering down in a 
broad torrent of snowy foam. 

No other of the Yosemite waterfalls conveys so 
sublime an expression of dynamic power and irre- 
sistible energy as does Nevada. Seen from below, 
the water seems to be hurled in masses over the pol- 
ished brink, to burst wildly on the ledges and fly out 
in whirling water-smoke, like storm-waves crashing 
upon a rocky coast. In the berserk fury of its rush 
it might embody some stalwart young god of Norse 
mythology, and its voice might be the death-song of 
a Jotun. 

Crossing by the bridge just above the fall, we 
turned eastward toward the Little Yosemite, follow- 
ing the stream while we sought an eligible camp- 
site. This we found about half a mile up, and went 
into camp on the bank of the river among white firs 
and the ubiquitous tamaracks. The sun had set for us 
although it was only four o'clock. After supper I 
fished for half an hour with indifferent success, and 
closed the day by fighting a merry bout in the twi- 
light with a handsome fish, losing him honorably in 
a tight place of sunken snags and boulders. 

We were not to move camp the next day, and I lay 
an extra hour in bed, watching the eastern grey turn 
to lilac, and conjuring to myself with the cryptic 
word ** values " as if I understood it, while I noted 
the relative tones of trunk, branch, and foliage against 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 51 

the brightening sky. A squirrel in the fir overhead 
barked quarrelsomely at me, insisting that I get up 
and leave the valley immediately, as if the whole 
place were the possessions of the house of Douglas. 
Not so loud, my peppery young friend ; I admit your 
prior claim, but all the same ** J'y suis, j'y reste." 

I suppose we all in our turn come into the debt of 
the inventor of bacon. For myself, when I am in the 
city I never touch the thing ; but here twice a day I 
eat it with relish, and find even the etymology of the 
word interesting. I never knew that Bacon was an 
Irish name ; yet I understand that Ireland has given 
this valuable product to the world. 

There are two small lakes (so marked on the 
map), that lie just at the base of the " helmet " curve 
of the Half-Dome, and about a mile from where we 
were camped. We walked over to see them, and 
found them to be excellent examples of the evolu- 
tion of the mountain meadow. By the gradual filling 
up of the lake-beds by detritus from the mountain 
at whose base they lie, they had already become 
marshes rather than lakes. Trunks of fallen trees lay 
rotting in the swampy soil, and a rank vegetation 
had grown up that all but obliterated them. The 
transformation was nearly complete, and a few years, 
I imagine, will suffice to give them the full meadow 
character. The place was exuberantly flowery with 
the blossoms of a tall weedy plant, and, enclosed 
within a ring of forest, was windless and silent as a 
vision. 



52 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

While we stood enjoying the perfect stillness, and 
ourselves silent, I saw not forty yards away the wag- 
ging ears of a fawn that stood in the shade on the 
edge of the meadow, persecuted by flies. He was 
submerged, all but his ears, in the green and white 
sea, but now and then lifted his head and showed his 
delicate muzzle and spiritual, innocent eyes. He had 
not seen us, but soon there was a warning whisde 
from an older deer behind the thicket, and the fawn 
turned and walked quietly out of sight. Coming by 
a detour to the place where he had stood, we came 
upon a handsome buck, the same, no doubt, that had 
whistled. We were within twenty feet of him before 
he saw us, but then in a few great curving leaps he 
reached the opposite side of the meadow, and the 
congenial forest instantly absorbed him. 

The designation of ** Little Yosemite" well enough 
describes this valley to any one who knows the 
larger original. It lies at approximately two thousand 
feet greater elevation, but in general features it is 
simply a narrower and smaller Yosemite. Its walls, 
though not so high nor so precipitous, are imposing 
enough in boldness of outline and severity of pol- 
ished granite. It has the same level meadows, and 
the river, though in places rapid and broken, flows 
generally with a valley quietness. Even the timber 
and underbrush are the same, except for a larger ad- 
mixture of firs and tamaracks among the prevailing 
yellow pines and cedars ; and though it lacks the 
waterfalls that grace the lower valley, there is a 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 53 

noticeably fine cascade at the upper end, where the 
river debouches from its narrow canon. The water is 
broken at the head of the cascade into coarse grains, 
like the heavy spray that is stripped by the wind 
from the crests of ocean waves in a storm, and races 
in a broad band at frightful velocity over an ice- 
planed slide into a rocking pool of emerald. 

Eytel was to return to the valley from this point, 
and I was to make the remainder of my circuit of 
the Yosemite rim alone. We sat long that night by 
a noble fire. The moon shone down on us between 
black shafts of fir and pine, like — as Eytel, the art- 
ist lost for the moment in the ** camper," remarked 
— ''like the lid of a lard-pail." The river rushed and 
murmured, now loud, now quiet, and gleamed white 
where the moonlight fell on the hurrying water. The 
soliloquy of the fire drew us inevitably into reminis- 
cence. Vague recollections were warmed up into full 
remembrance ; details and trifles came to mind in 
manner and number that astonished ourselves. From 
reminiscences we came to plans ; old enthusiasms 
awakened. By George, what things we would do I 
New York, London, and Paris should marvel at our 
pictures and eagerly discuss our books. Buy them, 
too. And if they would n't, who cared ? All the world 
could not prevent our painting and writing them, 
and how fine that was ! Careless heroes, we defied 
fate. Art was long, we knew, but " the thoughts of 
youth" — we still say we are young — "are long, 
long thoughts." In our enthusiasm we forgot that we 



54 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

had an audience and commentator. The solemn, un- 
changing forest stood quietly around ; the sparks flew 
up like dancing stars and came down in feathers of 
ash that powdered us over like grey snow ; and moth 
after moth came flitting from the outer gloom into 
the firelight, circled twice or thrice around the fire, 
and plunged madly into it like Empedocles on Etna 
or gilded youths at Monte Carlo. 

Walking a short distance up the valley in the 
moonlight, I was charmed by a new appearance of 
Half-Dome. The sky was partly overcast, and as the 
moon passed from behind a cloud and shone full 
upon the great southern round of the mountain, it 
was as if a vast hall, dim, grey, and unsubstantial, 
had come suddenly into being by enchantment. It 
hung glimmering, high and close above me, in the 
northern sky, spectral, weird, visionary, its half-mile 
height multiplied into an incomprehensible vastness 
in which terms of size had no meaning. De Quincey 
might have dreamed it. It completed my mental sub- 
jugation by this strange mountain, and I half feared 
that I might be visited by a nightmare recurrence of 
it in my sleep. 



CHAPTER V 

A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM : THE LITTLE 
YOSEMITE TO THE TUOLUMNE MEADOWS 

MY sleep that night was certainly broken, but 
from a different cause. I had noticed what ap- 
peared to be a sleeping-place of particular excellence 
some little distance from camp, where a big Jeffrey 
pine had laid down a carpet of dead needles, and 
I had removed my blankets to the spot. I had no 
sooner lain down than numbers of large black ants, 
appreciating the increase of caloric, and recognizing 
me as the author of the friendly warmth, began to 
swarm upon me. They did not bite, but simply ex- 
plored, travelling slowly and with evident pleasure 
over my face and neck, and penetrating in fright- 
ened rushes under the clothing when I tried to sweep 
them off. I lay in misery until past midnight, when I 
arose, rolled up my blankets, and marched a hun- 
dred yards back to camp, where I slept magnificently 
until six o'clock. 

Bidding farewell to Eytel, whom I was to rejoin 
in the valley, I took the Clouds' Rest trail with the 
animals who were to be my sole companions for the 
remainder of the trip. As we moved quietly along I 
was free to notice the thousand and one things that 



56 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

make up the silent conversation of the trail, — the 
sweet tangle of bush and herbage, the wavings of 
branch and fern-frond, the small, child-like voices of 
the birds, the changes of the mountain walls from 
white to purple and from purple again to white as 
the clouds passed over, even the crackling of twigs 
underfoot, and the quiet weaving of the shadow tra- 
cery across the trail. How superbly silent and uncon- 
taminated the world is, after all 1 

Coming after a mile or two to the point where the 
Clouds' Rest trail turns northward, I took the little 
travelled track which passes easterly over Sunrise 
Mountain. The animals were in good trim and humor 
after their rest, marching steadily along the levels, 
and taking the steep rises in fine, determined bursts 
of twenty yards or so at a time. 

I note that the centre of intelligence in the burro 
appears to lie about the middle tract of the back ; at 
least, the first movement of response arises there. A 
slight, almost imperceptible, elevation of that region 
is followed by a downward jerk of the head ; the ears 
wag responsively ; last of all the legs receive the per- 
cussion, and the tough cylinder of the trunk lurches 
forward. With Adam, a single word or a pebble is 
sufficient to initiate the operation. In the case of 
Teddy it requires three sharp words, crescendo, or a 
like number of admonitions by the rod. The first 
creates no impression whatever ; the second is ac- 
knowledged by a slight tremor of the frame, which, 
however, subsides almost on the moment ; at the third 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 57 

the back rises, the head drops, and we all move for- 
ward together. 

Deer are plentiful in this locality, and I found that 
they were objects of interest to the burros almost as 
much as to myself. I was sometimes amused by their 
intelligent behavior when we came upon these crea- 
tures. On one occasion we encountered a doe and a 
fawn standing together in an opening of the forest. 
I did not at first see them, and my attention was 
directed to them by Adam, who was in the lead, stop- 
ping abruptly and looking curiously round at me, 
with as plain an air of asking ** Do you see that ? '* as 
though he had spoken the words. The deer and we 
regarded one another respectfully for some ten or 
fifteen seconds ; then, as I tugged to release my camera 
from an over-tight case, they turned and leaped 
lightly back into the forest. May no worse harm be- 
fall them than would have come from my peaceful 
gun. 

Clarence King truly says that " from every com- 
manding eminence around the Yosemite no distant 
object rises with more inspiring greatness than the 
Obelisk of Mount Clark." From any point of view 
this is a splendid mountain, but especially from this 
side, where the bold upward swing of the crest is seen 
in profile. The heavy belt of forest at its base wavers 
off into tenuous lines and patches, and ends in scat- 
tered dots before the final spring of the grey, razor- 
like summit begins. As I passed in the early after- 
noon a shell of delicious shadow was still lying in the 



58 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

great western curve from which the mountain spires 
up to its apex, "jutting two thousand feet from a 
rough-hewn pedestal of rocks and snow-fields." 

To the north Clouds' Rest still kept me company, 
showing a much more abrupt peak than any one who 
has seen the mountain only from the familiar valley 
side would expect. 

At the second crossing of the creek I found a small 
triangle of meadow, and stopped to lunch. The ani- 
mals plunged with ardor into the riot of herbage, eat- 
ing ravenously until they suddenly sighed and ceased 
for very weariness. 

The trail here follows a long ridge bearing steadily 
northeast. Throughout the Sierra it is always inter- 
esting to note how regularly the changes of altitude 
are registered in the character of the forest. In the 
Little Yosemite I had left a mixed growth of cedar, 
yellow pine of two varieties, tamarack, sugar pine, 
and white fir. The cedars had been the first to dis- 
appear, then the common yellow pine {P. ponderosd)y 
then the sugar pine, and last the white fir, while the 
red fir, first appearing as a straggler, had come into 
the principal place and was now joined by the moun- 
tain pine. This species {P. monticold)^ like all the other 
conifers that year, bore an extravagant crop of cones, 
and the ground under the trees was thickly littered 
with the fallen burs. The cones are curved and slender, 
about six inches long by one in diameter before they 
open, and are borne singly or in clusters at the tips of 
the upper branches, where they hang like bunches of 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 59 

commas. From bright green they turn to deep purple, 
and ripen at last to a lively fawn-brown. The foliage 
is rather short, set in tufts in the manner of the tam- 
arack, but having the fine feathery grace of the sugar 
pine. It is altogether a handsome tree, robust but airy 
in habit, and expressing more of lightness and play- 
fulness than any other conifer of the region. 

The tamarack is something of a free lance in the 
matter of habitat, scattering through the forest pro- 
miscuously at all altitudes except the actual ex- 
tremes. The trail-blazer has a natural preference for 
this tree, on whose thin, smooth bark a good blaze 
is more easily made than on the rougher stems of 
the other species of pine, or the firs or spruces. More- 
over, the tree when cut quickly exudes a great 
amount of bright yellow resin, which fills the blaze 
and marks it as plainly as if it were painted. The 
tamarack is a brave, hardy tree, more handy than 
handsome, the useful plebeian of the conifers. 

The trail here was particularly attractive. For a 
considerable distance it followed a high ridge whose 
easy northern slope carried a forest of unusual va- 
riety and perfection, while to the south it fell away 
steeply to the caiion of the Merced. Beyond rose 
again the wilderness of mountains, swelling up from 
darkly forested bases to desolate barrens and heights 
of uncompromising granite. 

As we entered Hopkins Meadow, Adam halted at 
sight of the good green pasturage and turned upon 
me an interrogative and appealing eye. It had been 



6o YOSEMITE TRAILS 

my intention to camp a few miles farther on, at the 
lower end of Long Meadow ; but the place was un- 
deniably desirable, and I waived the point and made 
camp on the edge of the willow-bordered creek 
under a hospitable looking tamarack of unusual size. 
At this point a trail takes out southeasterly to Mer- 
ced Lake, the same by which I had reached this 
meadow on my return from the High Sierra the pre- 
vious summer. I had some debate with myself before 
I could make up my mind to forego revisiting the 
lake ; but I reflected that if I once surrendered to this 
kind of temptation I should find myself every day 
confronted with similar appeals of ever-increasing 
urgency, and might ultimately be dragged to Mount 
Lyell, or even to Mono Lake, while I should almost 
certainly be landed in difficulties for provisions. 

Mosquitoes were intractable for an hour or two, 
but the evening chill of 9000 feet of altitude quieted 
them early. The moon rose with a frosty brightness, 
accompanied by a court of little silvery clouds, de- 
lightfully tender and airy, that drifted dreamily along 
like sky -fairies. Dead pines stood around the 
meadow, as smooth and white as the masts of ships. 
The tamarack more than any other pine appears to 
seek the neighborhood of swamps and hollows, and 
yet, strangely, oftenest suffers early decay from the 
excess of moisture. 

I awoke several times during the night and sighed 
for one more blanket. But at any rate, cold was bet- 
ter than ants. Nature we can stand ; we are her chil- 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 6i 

dren and know her rules. I arose at five o'clock, 
really too cold to get breakfast, and took a run 
through the meadow to verify Harvey's great dis- 
covery. The burros were standing as if frozen, and 
viewed my athletics unsympathetically. 

It is in these mountain meadows that the birds 
congregate whose comparative scarcity in the Si- 
erra forests is remarked upon by casual travellers. 
From willow-thickets and matted tangles of dwarf 
ceanothus they emerge in troops as the sun rises, 
like English sparrows from an ivy-bush. Then begins 
the morning concert, the jay, you may be sure, tak- 
ing the part of first violin. As I ate breakfast the 
din grew till I was quite bewildered. Chee-ings and 
whee-ings and trillings and chucklings resounded on 
all sides. Then the woodpeckers brought their power- 
drills into action, and the woods rang again. Now 
and then sounded, far away, a haunting, plaintive 
cry, — surely the voice of the beloved ''organ-bird'* 
of my last year's earlier summer memories. Sweet 
bird, thou wilt never be forgot. 

As I stood quietly beside a big fir, a hawk came 
flying low among the trees straight toward me. He 
did not observe me until I suddenly moved, when he 
almost collapsed with fright. With a tremendous 
flapping and scurrying he starboarded his helm 
and bore away on another tack. '* Thus conscience 
does make cowards " : I have never seen other and 
weaker birds, with cleaner records, behave so. 

I packed leisurely and carefully in view of the steep 



62 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

climb which I knew lay ahead, and it was eleven 
o'clock before I started. Few works of man con- 
sume so much time in proportion to apparent result 
as the operation of loading a pack-animal ; but pre- 
caution pays many times over, for equally few things 
are more discomposing than to have packs loosen or 
slip when one is on some steep grade or other awk- 
ward place ; and it is of course just where the trail, 
and consequently the jolting, is worst that trouble is 
most likely to occur. 

Clouds' Rest now lay to the west, extending north- 
erly in a barren crest that rose in places to odd little 
nodules formed of weathered slabs of granite, such 
as occur at the main peak of the mountain. To the 
direct north was Sunrise Mountain, over which my 
trail ran. It was a long, trying climb, palliated with 
expansive glimpses of the fine, open country to the 
south. At 9700 feet I crossed the divide and de- 
scended into a meadow lying between bouldered 
slopes, with an impressive sweep of snowy moun- 
tains on the north. 

At this altitude the firs had disappeared, but the 
tamaracks still held out, and with some monticola 
made up the bulk of the forest. Here also came in 
the mountain hemlock (Tsuga mertensiana). This 
tree is strikingly distinctive. In delicate, feminine 
habit of growth it greatly resembles that favorite 
of the nurserymen, the Himalayan deodar. The foli- 
age is of the same silvery daintiness, and the branches 
and the topmost sprays of young trees take the same 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 63 

graceful, drooping curve. The cones are quaint and 
small, of long oval shape, like olives, and take on 
also as they ripen the purple color of that fruit. In 
old trees the smoke-colored bark turns to reddish, 
the close-growing branches dress the tall shaft with 
rich but scanty plumes, and the general appearance 
is much like that of the red fir. 

Here appeared also the outposts of the dwarf pine 
{P. albicaulis\ This is the hero that carries forward 
the flag of the tree kingdoms to timber-line, and I 
saluted him with respect. The low, straggling growth 
and grey bark, and the foliage, of a peculiarly clean 
light green, render this pine easily recognizable when 
it has once been identified. The staminate blossoms 
are of the shade of pink which is known in dry-goods 
circles, I believe, as " crushed strawberry," and the 
egg-shaped cone, consisting of a comparatively small 
number of thick, blunt scales, is unlike that of any 
other tree of the region. But the seeds happen to be 
particularly grateful to the palate of the Clarke crow, 
and he arranges that very few of the ripe cones fall 
to the ground to attract the observation of the traveller. 
One encounters little game in these higher alti- 
tudes, but grouse are not uncommon. One of these 
birds, getting up as is their wont almost from under 
our feet, startled Teddy into a highly creditable jump, 
pack and all. There was a sound of tinware in com- 
motion, and for a moment I trembled for my pack ; 
but with a snort which I fancy was partly invented 
to cover his confusion, he hastened on to overtake 



64 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

his comrade, who was better employed with the 
bunch-grass. 

A slight descent through rocky country opened a 
magnificent view of the Cathedral, Echo, and Uni- 
corn Peaks. The evening light threw the multitudi- 
nous pinnacles of this remarkable group into the 
strongest relief. It is evident that the glacial action 
which partly produced the typical rounded outlines 
of the Yosemite topography was diverted from this 
small region, where splintered crests and toppling 
crags remain to illustrate the Titanic shatter of the 
original upheaval. To-morrow I hoped would find 
me threading my way among them. 

It was nearly sundown when we emerged into 
Long Meadow. I had covered only four or five miles, 
having spent a good deal of time in climbing trees 
and in other small excursions. Passing a mile or two 
up the meadow I camped at its upper end, where 
a thin trickle of water ran among the boulders of a 
rocky creek bed. A chill}^ wind blew strongly down 
the valley, and I chose my camping-place with care. 

The altitude was 9500 feet. I stretched one of my 
canvases between two trees to form a wind-break, 
built a fire that might have alarmed a Swiss canton, 
and sat listening to the weird outcries of killdeer 
plovers {Oxyechus vociferus well named), far down 
the meadow, and noting with not unmixed admira- 
tion the frosty twinkling of the stars. 

Before I turned in it was intensely cold, and but 
for my wind-break I should have passed a miserable 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 65 

night. Once or twice when I awoke and sat up for a 
moment the wind cut like a whip, and I could see the 
frosted meadow shining like snow in the moonlight. 
There was no temptation to stay in bed after day- 
break, and I sat hugging the fire w^hile I sipped 
boiling coffee and watched the solemn beauty of the 
coming of the day. 

Straight down the meadow rose Clark and his sur- 
rounding mountains, sheeted on this their north side 
with snow. Slowly the phantasmagoria changed from 
spectral grey to the first flush of warmth, passed 
through rose to orange, and so to glistening white 
painted with broad washes of purple shadow. The 
thin splinter of granite that is called Columbia Fin- 
ger shot up a thousand feet into the air to the north- 
east, while close to camp, for convenient geological 
contrast, a small isolated dome rose from the very 
edge of the meadow. 

I was again amazed at the abundance of small life 
that sprang into existence as soon as the sun rose. It 
was quite a case of boys and girls coming out to play. 
Birds in troops came flitting about, hopping among 
the tussocky grass, and pursuing one another in and 
out among the trees with playful ardor. Marmots 
frisked about the fallen logs or sat upright eating the 
grass seeds, holding them neatly to the mouth like 
** corn-on-the-cob," but without a trace of the humil- 
iating expression which most of us are conscious of 
when we venture upon that trying vegetable. 

It was the middle of the morning when I started up 



66 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the valley. The trail at first bore easterly, heading 
straight toward the spike of granite ; then, skirting 
its southern base, it entered Cathedral Pass at an ele- 
vation of 10,000 feet. Reaching the summit of the 
pass a wild prospect, purely Alpine, spread before 
me, and involuntarily I stopped, almost staggered at 
the grandeur and savageness of the scene. Half a 
mile to the east rose a steep, keen slope on which 
a few dwarfed pines struggled, almost consciously as 
it seemed, to maintain a footing. From where they 
ceased, inaccessible cliffs and aiguilles sprang up 
sharp and white against the intense blue. In the 
powerful light every scar and seam was marked with 
glittering distinctness. The long curving swing of the 
ridge expressed a terrible strength and austerity, and 
the grim line of the crest seemed almost to impend 
ominously. On the other hand, the white obelisk 
stood close beside me glistening with a vitreous hard- 
ness, and in the north again rose spires, turrets, and 
scarps of granite. It was a maelstrom of mountains, 
whose crests broke on all sides into the wildest shapes 
of leaping water. 

I felt again there, as I have often before, how deeply 
the sense of solitude is enhanced by the presence of 
wind. It is a difficult emotion to analyze, but I sup- 
pose that the monotonous sound and pressure may 
revive in the subconscious mind some memory of 
early experiences of our race during its migrations. 
I am often curiously aware at these moments of a 
background of Russian steppes and Asian plateaus to 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 67 

my sensations, and the apparent incongruity is not, 
for some reason, disconcerting. 

Even at this elevation the trail was varied with 
patches of meadow in which grew alpine willows 
and many flowers. Along the runnels of water bry- 
anthus grew thickly, and I found a few sprays on 
which the rosy blossoms were still unwithered. The 
plant, which is, in fact, of the Erica family, is delight- 
fully heathery in character, the stems tough and wiry 
and the foliage britde and stiff. The blossoms as they 
fade take on a heatherish purple, and it is altogether 
a fine, rough, Scotch-looking highlander. 

I never saw the sky of so fervent a blue as it was 
that morning. I have always hoped to observe in it 
that appearance of violet darkness which has been 
remarked by many travellers as occurring at no 
greater altitudes than some that I have reached ; but 
so far the experience has been denied me. Here, how- 
ever, the color was so deep as to be very remarkable. 
It was a pure ultramarine, and I was encouraged to 
hope that I might yet observe from these mountains 
the coveted phenomenon. 

Crossing another divide among ledges of granite 
that were thickly studded with protruding crystals 
of feldspar, the trail passed over a small snow-bank 
and then descended to a meadow which encircled a 
little lake with rocky shores and islets. From the 
eastern margin of the meadow Cathedral Peak tow- 
ered directly up a thousand feet into the glowing 
blue. The mountain shows here a very symmetrical 



68 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

double peak, and the white, precipitous face bears a 
look of unutterable age. The topmost turrets are as 
fragile and delicate as finely carved masonry that is 
crumbling to decay, and I could almost fancy that I 
saw the richly crocketed pinnacles and spires of the 
abbeys and minsters of my native land. As I passed 
along the west shoulder of the mountain the two 
points of the summit merged into a single perfect 
needle, and from^a little farther again, the crest showed 
a series of even, sharply cleft notches, from which it 
sloped off to a ridge that terminated in an abrupt 
cliff. 

Half a mile to the west I could see Cathedral Lake, 
half hidden in deep forest. It was too early to think 
of camping, or I would willingly have stayed to ob- 
serve the appearance of this remarkable mountain by 
moonlight, when its peculiar shape and pallor must 
produce a night picture equally impressive and 
ghostly. 

Again I entered the forest. In a strip of meadow 
through which flowed a lively stream a late lily was 
upholding still a score of ruby chalices. Could any- 
thing be prettier, more child-like and innocent, than 
these green lawns, sown with tall lavender daisies, 
and with the quiet forest shadows falling athwart 
them ? I trow not, unless it be in heaven, or England. 
(Forgive, gentle American reader, the Englishman's 
fond exception.) 

It was verging towards evening, and the birds 
were busy with their small housekeepings, convers- 



^*'k 









A^ 



^ 



!?->■- ^-'■, :>%• f-*^ ' ■-' 




CATHEDRAL PEAK 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 69 

ing abstractedly as they foraged. At the root of a 
giant hemlock a spring of water issued, as cold as if 
the earth's interior were of ice instead of fire. At a 
turn of the trail I came upon what appeared to be 
a camp. A considerable volume of smoke was rising 
from a litde clearing which exhibited the usual ugly 
litter of cans and other rubbish. Some party had 
camped there and had neglected to extinguish their 
fire when they left. 1 was just in time to prevent a 
serious conflagration. A fallen log was burning in 
two places, and at every draw of wind blazed up 
fiercely, while the ground for a considerable distance 
around was smouldering threateningly. The animals, 
whom I had allowed to get some distance ahead, 
fortunately had decided that this was to be our camp- 
ing-place, and were waiting for me. I hastily tied 
them, cut through the log with my axe, and hauled 
the burning end to the creek, into which I tumbled 
it. Then, stamping out the fire where it was eating 
its way through the thick matting of pine-needles, I 
cleared the ground around the smouldering portion, 
leaving a ring within which the fire, if it should re- 
vive, could burn itself out. 

No penalty that could be exacted would be too 
severe for the offence against the public good which 
is committed by persons who, merely to avoid a few 
minutes' work, will expose a tract of forest to the 
danger of destruction. Carelessness so selfish and so 
colossal rises to the dimension of crime. 

It was by now past sundown, and I hurried the ani- 



70 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

mals down the long descent. I really believe that, as 
burros go, my good Adam came as near perfection 
as could well be. He had but one fault, and even 
that I am willing to believe arose from a physical 
ailment, — his nose appeared to be afflicted with a 
chronic itch. Fifty times a day he must stop to rub 
the sensitive organ upon some convenient object 
(often myself), and his countenance when thus em- 
ployed expressed a degree of enjoyment which was 
highly irritating when I desired to make quick pro- 
gress ; though, after all, that occurred but seldom. I 
recall that David Copperfield's Aunt was marked by 
the same peculiarity, but with her the action seems 
to have been involuntary, and a symptom of per- 
plexity of mind, while Adam made his infirmity an 
excuse for securing a pleasurable titillation. 

When the timber at last thinned I saw before and 
below me the wide plain of the Tuolumne Meadows, 
with the river winding along in peaceful convolutions. 
In a few minutes the trail ran out on the level, and, 
a creek converging at the same point, I went into 
camp, escorted by hordes of the mosquitoes for which, 
almost as much as for its scenery, this locality is 
celebrated. 

I walked some way down the meadow before turn- 
ing in, and noticed that the massive clouds which 
with some apprehension I had seen piling up in the 
north during the afternoon, had entirely vanished, 
leaving again that clear and starry firmament which 
renders the California night, no less than its day, a 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 71 

continual miracle to our visitors. An opening- of the 
forest to the south gave a glimpse of Cathedral Peak 
rising superbly against an indigo sky, with a snow-field 
high up on the eastern shoulder shining in the light of 
the rising moon like a floating cloud. 

I had tethered the animals on the farther side of the 
creek, where the pasturage was better. Some capacity 
for the feeling of loneliness by which these compan- 
ions of man have become infected manifested itself 
as they observed my preparations for the night, and 
they hailed me with weird sounds, incipient brayings, 
which died unregretted upon the frosty air. 



CHAPTER VI 

A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM : THE TUOLUMNE 
MEADOWS TO YOSEMITE FALLS 

THE -fine enthusiasm of Mr. Muir never bums 
more brightly than when he writes of the gentian 
meadows of the Sierra. During a month of wander- 
ings in the high country the previous summer I had 
been on the qui vive for a sight of the flower, for 
I was infected with his spirit, — as who is not that 
reads him ? — but I could never catch a glimpse of 
his cerulean darling. This year, also, I had thus far 
searched for it in vain ; but at last, here in the Tuo- 
lumne Meadows, I came upon it. I knew it at once 
though I had never seen it before ; this deep chalice 
of glowing blue must be the long-sought blossom ; 
and so it was. But delightful as the flower is, it can 
never supplant with me that most charming flower 
of the Sierra, the lavender daisy. With no fervors of 
color, the latter embodies the sweetest of floral (as of 
human) virtues, simplicity, and stands face open to 
the sky, well-bred, slender, and quietly gay. 

It was with reluctance that I now turned westward. 
A few miles to the east were Mounts Dana and Gibbs, 
with the fine territory lying beyond and to the south 
of them ; and in the north, unseen but not unfelt, lay 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 73 

the Matterhorn country, in whose long canons and 
by whose solitary lakes I had wandered the previous 
year. But I had reached here the extreme easterly 
point necessary to my purpose, and from here could 
make my way back to the north wall of the valley, 
keeping all the time on the high levels. 

The Tioga road, which I should follow for some 
fifteen miles, is a rough track built in historic days 
by the owners of the once famous Tioga mine, which, 
long since abandoned, lies near the crest of the 
Sierra about twelve miles northeast of the meadows. 
For purposes of technical ** control," a wagon is 
still driven over it once a year by an adventurous 
teamster ; and deserted cabins mark here and there 
the sites of "stations" such as Porcupine Flat, Dark 
Hole, White Wolf, and Aspen Valley. 

Turning westward along this ancient highway, I 
came at once among the familiar Yosemite forma- 
tions. Slopes of glabrous rock swept down into the 
level green of the meadows. Fairview Dome, a per- 
fectly turned cupola of granite, towered twelve hun- 
dred feet above the road, and facing it stood another 
monstrous hummock, carved in peculiarly massive 
plates and ledges, from the crevices of which bat- 
tered hemlocks and junipers peered down like stumpy 
dwarfs. 

The road led through open forest, at first of tama- 
rack alone, then mixed with hemlocks and mountain- 
pines. The clouds of yesterday had returned; by 
noon the sun was obscured, and I looked forward 



74 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

with enjoyment to a rain. The forest wore its finest 
aspect of gloom; every tree stood observant and 
waiting. There was no wind ; no branch moved, nor 
leaf whispered. The birds too were mute, flitting 
quietly among the pine-aisles as if lost in a dim 
church. Grey sky, grey mountains, grey stems of in- 
numerable trees, — all was grey, calm, expectant. 

There is a melancholy amount of dead timber 
throughout this region. Long stretches of tamarack 
forest have perished, as if at a stroke. Close examina- 
tion shows that they have been destroyed by fire, al- 
though the polished skeletons would seem to indicate 
almost any other agency. The thin bark of this spe- 
cies burns like paper, and when it falls off leaves the 
trees complete from trunk to twig, apparently blasted 
rather than burned, the mockery of a forest. But 
among the dead trees there are numbers of prosper- 
ous young saplings from one to ten feet high. One 
can only hope that the new generation is not doomed 
to the fate of the old, and that the late-awakened zeal 
for forest preservation will avail to save other tracts 
from destruction. 

Dome succeeded dome, the road descending grad- 
ually and bearing southwest. Passing close under 
the treeless easterly slope of Murphy's Dome, I came 
early in the afternoon in view of Tenaya Lake. On 
the left rose another mountain, hardly less barren, 
but with a few whitened junipers high up on the 
ledges standing backed against the precipices in fine 
fighting attitudes. A good meadow lies at the upper 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 75 

end of the lake, and into this I turned to look out a 
place for my camp, for the rain was now imminent. 

When looking for a camp-site I usually go ahead 
of the animals, leading Adam by the halter-rope. 
This is the signal for Teddy to fall behind and hunt 
out titbits undisturbed, but he has a youthful horror 
of being left behind and lost, and generally keeps a 
sharp lookout to hold us in view. On this occasion 
he was betrayed by some agreeable morsel into allow- 
ing us to get out of his sight, and while I was tying 
Adam preparatory to unloading, I heard a weird, 
multitudinous kind of sound, and beheld Teddy racing 
along toward us at a swinging canter, his packs jounc- 
ing rhythmically as he came. His ears were rigid, 
and his excited eyes gleamed wildly about with an 
expression of ludicrous anxiety. The sound I heard 
was compounded of rattling cans, creaking harness, 
and the attrition of the heterogeneous articles com- 
prised in his pack ; among them, I reflected, certain 
liquids and semi-liquids that were not arranged for 
such rapid transportation. He had made half the circuit 
of the meadow, careening over at a fine, cutting angle 
as he bowled along, before he espied us, when he 
bore down upon us, still at a canter, came to anchor 
handsomely, and in a moment was chousing his con- 
sort out of the best of the pasturage. 

I had hardly unpacked before it began to rain 
briskly. Throwing a line between two trees, I fastened 
the pack-canvases together and made of them a 
rough shelter, sufficient for my purpose. Then, with 



76 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

my blankets safely under cover, I sat botanizing- in 
my humble, popular way, and rejoicing over the rain 
and my gentians. 

With the rain came a strong wind that drove it 
in heavy swirls against my shelter, and made the dead 
pines rock and strain like the masts of ships at anchor 
in a squall. The wavelets drove crisply up on the 
beach with a joyful sound of chattering water, and two 
sandpipers ran up and down the wet edges of the sand, 
happy and excited, or flew out over the lake, skim- 
ming over the crests with sharp, curving wings, and 
uttering little wailing cries of pleasure in sympathy 
with the storm. 

The rain lasted for two or three hours, and then 
cleared suddenly away to a spectacular sunset. The 
wet rock of the mountain sides wore a more sombre 
majesty of color, and a patch of snow that lay in a 
niche five hundred feet above me flushed almost to 
damask in the last red rays of the sun. 

I had staked the burros a little way back from the 
lake, and when about dark I went over to picket them 
on fresh pasturage for the night, I was surprised to 
see the smoke of a camp-fire rising at the upper end 
of the meadow. Lake Tenaya is a favorite camping- 
place for travellers to and from the High Sierra or 
the Mono country, and it was not the fact of a camp, 
but the place chosen for it that struck me as strange. 
After attending to the animals I walked over to sat- 
isfy my curiosity. 

I found that my neighbors were a party of Indians ; 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 77 

two men, one of middle age, the other younger, a 
young woman whom I guessed to be the squaw of the 
younger man, and two little girls of six or eight years. 
They showed no surprise at my appearance, hardly 
looking up as I approached, and I had no doubt 
that with Indian quickness and secrecy they had 
watched my arrival at midday, and could have given 
me as exact a statement of my proceedings since that 
time as I myself could have furnished. My formal 
salutation was acknowledged by a glance and an in- 
articulate monosyllable from the men, and by the 
slow retreat of the two children until they backed 
against a tree, where they stood and gazed at me 
with serious unconcern. The woman had not even 
looked up. She was crouching on hands and knees 
over a smouldering fire, which she was endeavoring 
by blowing upon it to cultivate into a blaze. 

In the half-darkness the swarthy face with its hang- 
ing ropes of hair, and the tense, muscular arms, 
glowed with ruddy gleams as she blew on the embers. 
The silence of the spectators and the intent attitude 
of the single actor in the group conferred upon the 
operation almost the quality of a rite. 

It was difficult to read hospitality into the general 
situation, and I allowed a minute or two to elapse 
while I absorbed the pictorial elements of the scene. 
But I was too well aware of the native taciturnity of 
the Indians to feel it as a rebuff, and, moreover, I have 
a genuine liking for them, based, I confess, more upon 
indirect than upon first-hand knowledge. 



78 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The offer of tobacco is to-day as ever the friendli- 
est advance one can make to an Indian. For that 
matter, it is understood in the same light by Mexi- 
cans and whites also ; and I have often been thank- 
ful that nature has provided this universal medium 
of friendly exchanges. It now supplied me with the 
means of an introduction, and walking forward I ten- 
dered my pouch to the older man with a friendly 
gesture and a word of appreciation of the fire, which 
was now burning brightly. It was at once accepted, 
and when at my invitation the younger man and the 
woman also shared my long-cut, the way was open 
for a friendly powwow, and in a minute or two we 
were all seated and smoking sociably. As I used a 
pipe I was able to abandon the pouch to them, and 
as cigarette followed cigarette it passed from hand to 
hand with a rapidity that would have defied the in- 
telligence of a detective. 

A fragmentary conversation brought out that they 
were Mono Indians returning from the Yosemite to, 
their valley on the eastern side of the mountains. The 
fact that I had been there the previous summer, and 
that we had some mutual acquaintances among the 
Indians of the valley, opened the way still further ; and 
when I had lured the children into partial amity with 
a bait of ornamental brass buttons which I chanced 
to have in my coat-pocket, and which they promptly 
transferred to their mouths, we got on swimmingly. 

The woman and the younger man took no part in 
the conversation, entering into it only to the extent of 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 79 

emphatic nods and other symbols of acquiescence in 
the sentiments expressed with regard to the persons 
who came under inquisition. The discussion, if it could 
be called such, took, in fact, a range not much be- 
yond the discovery of common acquaintances, and 
was conducted in some such manner as this : — 

"You sabe Indian Simon?" 

" Him live Mono ? " 

** No, him live Yosemite ; stay Yosemite all time." 

" Oh, ya-a-a, sabe Simon." 

"Simon my friend, good man, yes?" 

" 'Std 'uenor 

A pause, the adults smoking determinedly while 
the children kept me carefully skewered. Then, — 

"Manuel, you sabe?" 

" Manuel live Mono ? Yosemite ? " 

"Yosemite, rancheria." 

" Oh, ya-a-a, sabe Manuel." 

" Him good man, too." 

" Ya-a-a, him good man, Manuel good man, sure.*' 

Another pause. 

" You see me when I come to-day, afternoon ? " 

" Oh, ya-a-a, see you come. Bringum two burro, 
Adams, Teddee." 

" How you sabe my burros ? " 

" Oh, ya-a-a, sabe burro allright. Burro not belong 
you." 

" No, not belong me. How you sabe?" 

"Oh, ya-a-a, sabe oleman Dickson, Hite Cove. 
Him haveum burro for pack, I see. You buyum, how 
much?" 



8o YOSEMITE TRAILS 

" No, I not buyum ; rentum." 

(I found myself, with half-conscious amusement, 
adopting- the pidgin-English of my friends.) 

" ^Std ^ueno : I sabe you rentum." 

**How you sabe?" 

But to this I could get no answer. They grunted in 
energetic chorus, but left me in ignorance and ad- 
miration ; and I am in doubt to-day whether he really 
knew my business as thoroughly as he seemed to 
do, or whether among the other interesting traits of 
the Indian is to be reckoned that of being a superla- 
tive and unnecessary bluffer. 

With such innocent exercises we passed an hour 
of true Indian sociability, smoking industriously and 
speaking about once every three minutes. The chil- 
dren had retired, that is to say, they had burrowed 
under a heap of nondescript bedding and odoriferous 
saddle-blankets which lay, sufBciently near, at a few 
yards' distance. When I arose to go, my pouch, a 
nickel-plated, horseshoe-topped affair, had not re- 
turned to my custody. It was an old friend, and I 
was loath to lose it ; but when a casual glance around 
failed to reveal it I gave it up, rather than institute a 
search which, if unsuccessful, might seem to reflect 
upon the honesty of my hosts. So, saying nothing 
about the pouch, I bade them good-bye and groped 
my way in the pitchy darkness back to my camp, 
twice narrowly escaping a plunge into the creek, 
which stole with a canal quietness between deeply 
cut banks. 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 8i 

When I reached camp my lower half was well 
chilled by contact with the rain-laden bushes. I made 
a genial blaze by which to dry myself, and as I sat by 
it I pondered upon the mysterious nature of that law 
by virtue of which the smoke of a camp-fire blows 
always, without regard to the direction of the wind, 
into the face of the bystander. Large spiders, of the 
kind whose pin's-head of body is suspended upon 
long legs of miraculous thinness, ambled over me, 
exploring the creases of my costume ; and I won- 
dered whether there is not suggested in the anatomy 
of these creatures a mechanical principle which an 
architect might turn to remarkable account. 

Sunday was to be a day of rest and mending, and 
when I awoke next morning I was determined not to 
forsake my blankets until I could emerge upon a 
comfortable temperature. When at length I arose I 
looked in vain for the smoke of the Indians' fire. 
Evidently they had already broken camp and de- 
parted. I thought I would walk over after breakfast 
to their camp, and make a search for the pouch in 
case I had overlooked it in the semi-darkness the 
night before, but I confess I thought it likely that 
it was in their company and well on the way to 
Mono. 

While I sat at breakfast I saw the older Indian 
loping down the meadow toward me on his pony. As 
he came up and we exchanged ^^ Buenos dias!^^ he 
held out the pouch to me, explaining that the " mu- 
chach ' " had taken it because it was bright. He was 



82 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

sorry, and he had ** beatum good." I thanked him for 
returning it and asked him to keep it for his trouble, 
but I could not persuade him to accept it. While 
we fraternized over the cofTee-pot I learned that they 
had started at sunrise and he had actually ridden back 
several miles to restore my property. I had known that 
these Indians bore a high reputation for trustworthi- 
ness, but I own I was astonished at this scrupulous 
honesty, and was heartily ashamed of my suspicions. 
With some difficulty I got him to accept a small can- 
ister of tobacco, and he rode off to overtake his party, 
under pledge not to "beatum muchach^'^ any further 
on my account. 

My animals gazed at me with surprise and grati- 
tude when, instead of bringing them in for packing, 
I presented them with a breakfast relish of onions. 
Some repairs were necessary on my clothing, and as 
I (to use the ingenious expression of a plainsman 
friend) "staked out" my buttons with copper wire, I 
was struck by the degree of polish of which khaki is 
susceptible which has been well treated with pine- 
gum. 

In the afternoon clouds again came up from the 
north and a heavy thunder-storm broke over the lake. 
Mount Hoffman in the west grew leaden and veiled, 
and looking down the lake I could see skeins of rain 
falling from the edges of the clouds that overhung 
the valley. The wind blew strongly enough to raise 
waves of respectable size, and I again retreated to my 
shelter. The thunder became continuous and made a 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 83 

noble jubilation among the mountains. There is an 
amphitheatre of cliffs far up on the east shoulder of 
Tenaya Peak which seemed to focus each peal, wrap 
it together, and hurl it down in explosive bursts upon 
the lake. It was a superb Sunday concert. 

The rain was heavy and lasted for several hours. At 
the foot of the tamaracks among which I was camped 
solid masses of resin had collected. I kicked ofi lumps 
from these with my boot-heel, and with them kept up a 
handsome fire, independent of my rain-soaked supply 
of firewood. By sundown again the clouds had van- 
ished, and the day closed in an idyll, with the even- 
ing star beaming in a thoughtful sky and drawn in 
quiet, tremulous lines on the tranquil surface of the 
lake. 

The stillness of the night was broken by the sound 
of newly formed cascades that poured in many places 
over the bare rock of the mountain sides. Thoreau re- 
lates that people used sometimes to remark upon the 
loneliness of his life in the Concord woods, and rejoins 
in his quaint fashion, *' Why should I feel lonely? is 
not our planet in the Milky Way ? " I confess I am 
not built on that sublime scale ; but with trees about 
me I find that I seldom suffer for lack of company. 
And besides the trees themselves there are their pop- 
ulations of birds and squirrels, all friends and com- 
rades alike. 

My lash-ropes, which had been thoroughly soaked 
in the rain, were frozen during the night as stiff as 
wire cables, and it was impossible to pack with them 



84 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

next morning until I had got them thawed out. As I 
wrestled with the ice-bound knots and hitches I real- 
ized faintly the melancholy nature of the seafaring 
life, and marvelled that any one should voluntarily 
"follow the sea" as a profession. 

By mid-morning I had packed as well as I could 
and we again took to the road, which follows the 
north shore of the lake almost to its lower end. Clouds' 
Rest came again into view to the south, and Mount 
Hoffman closer to northwest. The rocks showed 
here a remarkable degree of glacial action and shone 
with the dull lustre of polished marble. 

At the foot of the lake, where an ancient rail-fence 
lies submerged and decaying among the grass of a 
small meadow, the road turned to the north, and climb- 
ing a steep grade opened a lovely landscape of which 
the lake, at a distance of a mile or two, was the centre. 
Directly from the water's edge on its farther side 
Tenaya Peak rose for two thousand feet, with Cathe- 
dral Peak showing over its shoulder remarkably like 
an English parish church. The foreground was a slope 
of glistening rock strewn with an incredible litter of 
boulders. 

A sun of spring-like freshness shone over the land- 
scape, and under its warmth the wet ground poured 
out its spiciest odors. The dead cones that lay in 
myriads on the forest floor had closed their scales 
like umbrellas, and resumed for a brief time their 
living shapes. One is apt, unless he is acquainted 
with the appearance of the growing cones, to be 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 85 

deluded by this behavior into supposing that he is 
meeting some species of pines that are new to him. 
The cones of the tamarack and hemlock in particular 
are not easily recognized under their temporary trans- 
formation. 

The road trended northward almost to the foot of 
Mount Hoffman before it turned again westerly and 
began a gradual descent in company with a versatile 
little creek. An opening of the forest to the south gave 
a glimpse of Half-Dome under yet another aspect, 
seen at right angles to the well-known semi-profile 
that commands the valley. Far to the west the blue 
of timbered mountains closed the view, running to- 
gether fold on fold, their myriad tree-tops scratching 
the sky-line like needle points. 

Vivid ovals of meadow broke the forest, starred 
with daisies that were more engaging than ever in 
their rain-washed freshness. Rounding the base of 
Mount Hoffman I discovered the expected south- 
westerly trail, and striking into it headed directly for 
the valley rim. The timber here again was strik- 
ingly fine, the firs especially statuesque and dignified ; 
and the afternoon sunlight flooded the forest with a 
grave and solemn splendor. 

I had prepared myself for trouble when I packed 
in the morning, and now it overtook me. The lash- 
ropes, stretching as they dried, had gradually loosened 
until at a steep descent the packs of both animals 
slipped bodily forward on to their necks. A few ex- 
cited gymnastics completed the ruin, and nothing 



86 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

remained but to unload and repack. The operation 
is a harassing one when the ground is a steep and 
brushy side-hill, and a good deal of time was con- 
sumed by it. 

After crossing the creek which flows down Indian 
Cafion to the valley, the trail rose to a low divide, 
then again descended, now in full view of the great 
precipice which rises at the west of the Yosemite 
Creek. This was already deep in shadow, a sombre 
and imposing object, and enhanced by contrast the 
sunset color that pulsated on the summit of Sentinel 
Dome, directly to the south. The forest became more 
open, Jeffrey pines and junipers growing sparsely on 
the pavement-like expanse of disintegrating granite. 
A final abrupt descent brought me to Yosemite 
Creek, and crossing by the bridge just above the 
head of the fall I turned along the west side of the 
stream and camped where a scanty growth of herb- 
age offered the only provender for the animals that 
I was likely to find in the neighborhood. 

I had arranged with my friend Eytel that I would 
signal my arrival at this point to him in the valley 
below. By the last of the daylight I climbed to the 
highest point of the cliff on the east of the fall, and 
lighted my signal-fire. The floor of the valley three 
thousand feet below twinkled with electric lights, and 
I anticipated without enthusiasm the time when a 
captive balloon will be anchored in the middle of the 
valley, and airships moored at favorable spots for 
doing the sunsets and sunrises. 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 87 

Early next morning I climbed down to the lip of 
the fall. It is a wild enough place, and the tremendous 
escarpment of Yosemite Point, projected in strong 
profile against the morning haze, was powerfully im- 
pressive. The upper end of the valley was filling with 
misty sunlight, but below the village everything was 
still in obscurity, except where the salient points of 
the southern wall caught dull, purplish gleams. In 
middle distance loomed the colossus of Half-Dome, 
and beyond, Mounts Clark and Starr King stood 
forward like the advancing waves of the sea of Sierra 
peaks. 

At this time of year, the end of summer, the fall 
had lost much of its beauty and grandeur, but even 
now from where I stood at the verge of the first sheer 
drop of sixteen hundred feet it presented a fascinating 
sight. The creek, after passing through two or three 
deep, cauldron-like pools, falls in cascades for a hun- 
dred feet. Then leaping another hundred it strikes 
a ledge and is broken into dust, which drifts idly 
away upon the wind and is lost to view. 

From observation of the walls of the gorge above 
the fall I could partly realize the stupendous energy 
with which the stream when in flood hurls its waters 
far out beyond the lip of the fall, and was able to im- 
agine the magnificence of the spectacle at this point 
on such occasions. I could also faintly conceive what 
King's fine geological sense suggested to him at the 
same spot, — **how immeasurably grander must it 
have been when the great, living, moving glacier. 



88 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

with slow, invisible motion, crowded its huge body- 
over the brink, and launched blue ice-blocks down 
through the foam of the cataract into that gulf of 
wild rocks and eddying mist." 

I had often noted from the valley the splinter or 
flake of rock which stands separated from the main 
wall near Yosemite Point. Climbing along the edge 
of the clifi I found that this remarkable monolith, 
standing perhaps a hundred feet clear of the summit 
of the precipice, is so tall, straight, and slender that I 
was nowhere able to observe where its base joins the 
parent rock. 

From the Point another enormous prospect opened. 
Here again, as everywhere in the neighborhood of 
the valley, Half-Dome was the overpowering ingre- 
dient in the view. The light was still misty and uncer- 
tain, and the great disk of the northern face hung like 
a blue curtain from the edge of the mighty fracture. 
From this elevation of 7200 feet the convexity of the 
dome is depressed to a low, swelling curve, and the 
laminations of its concentric structure show like fine 
toolings on a ball of ivory. Directly to the east North 
Dome showed as a mere hillock, only five hundred feet 
above me. A broad splash of sunlight shone dully on 
the apron of granite over which an arm of the ancient 
glacier had flowed. 

In the foreground the forest swept down at a keen 
angle, halting only at the very edge of the precipice 
which plunges sheer to the valley floor. Opposite, 
across the gulf, frowned the dark escarpment of Gla- 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 89 

cier Point. The broad foot of solid rock which sinks 
into the forest below this great cliff is to me one of 
the arresting features of the valley. The most casual 
mind is struck by the massive slope of burnished gran- 
ite, and comprehends something of the majestic 
movement of the glacier which, pouring down the 
caiion of the Illilouette, encountered here the converg- 
ing mass of the Tenaya glacier, and, deflected west- 
wards, was crowded against the impeding buttress. 

Turning to the south. Sentinel Dome marked the 
head of the magnificent panorama of the valley wall, 
the shadows of the highest points projected blue-black 
across the park-like level. In the west Eagle Peak 
and the abrupt faces of the Three Brothers shone in 
clear morning light, and below lay the deeply cut 
trough where the river gleamed palely among ob- 
scuring masses of timber. 

It seemed somewhat of a pity that since the au- 
thorities had placed, or permitted some one to place, 
a flag-pole at this much-visited point, there could not 
have been found a worthier emblem to fly from it than 
the scrap of sacking which, to judge from internal 
evidence, had then long disgraced it. 

Reluctantly I left this fine coign of observation. A 
marmot, which when I arrived I had noticed lying on 
a projecting rock apparently waiting for the sun, was 
still, after perhaps half an hour, watching me with 
frank curiosity. He was not more than five yards dis- 
tant, and I felt flattered by his confidence and spoke 
appreciatively to him as I turned away. In acknow- 



90 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

ledgment he politely changed his position so as to 
keep me in view until I disappeared below his horizon. 
It was already nearly midday, and I made my way 
directly back to camp, striking obliquely across a 
steep slope of ledges and house-like boulders. Gnarled 
pines gripped the crevices and thick beds of buck- 
brush filled the sheltered hollows. The junipers were 
here in unusually fine foliage, spreading in firm 
rounded outlines like full-leaved oaks. The disinte- 
grating rock gave good footing to my nailed boots, 
and I found it exhilarating to stride rapidly down 
over shelves of sparkling granite that often tilted 
under my weight. I crossed the creek almost dry- 
shod between two of the "pot-holes" with which its 
bed is honeycombed, and climbing up a brush-choked 
gully, emerged, almost as much to my own surprise 
as theirs, exactly where my animals were tethered. 
Their pasturage had been scanty, and with cheap 
generosity I eked out their commons from such of 
my supplies as promised to show a surplus. 



CHAPTER VII 

A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM : YOSEMITE FALLS 
TO THE BIG OAK FLAT ROAD 



I 



T was well after noon when I broke camp and started 
out on the Eagle Peak trail. Almost immediately 
I met once more that magnificent zone of firs which 
I can never enter without a feeling that approaches 
the religious. There is something in the demeanor of 
these trees that ministers to an instinct for gravity 
which receives little satisfaction in these days, and 
I could not refrain from occasionally halting the 
cavalcade while I indulged the sentiment to the 
full. The conservation policy is perhaps more politic 
than it knows, conserving not only the nation's re- 
sources, but, in a manner, its men. 

The trail, after bearing northward and rounding 
the high cliff that rises to the west of the creek, 
turned again to the south, passing along the edge of 
a meadow full of cheerful daisies, and then rose 
steeply to Eagle Peak. This point, the highest of the 
Three Brothers, is several hundred feet higher than 
any other accessible summit along the walls, and 
gives the finest of all the views of the upper end of 
the valley. The scene was that day enhanced by 
broken masses of cloud that hovered over the High 



92 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Sierra, through which a pale sun threw sensitive, 
shifting lights over the ranks of distant peaks. But 
for the interference of the hemisphere of Half-Dome, 
the sweep of the prospect was unbroken. Again I 
admired the scimitar curve of Mount Clark, and 
again felt the Alpine fascination of that noble clus- 
ter of mountains of which Lyell is the nucleus. The 
nearer distance was filled by a sea of granite, shaded 
in severe black and white ; and almost in the fore- 
ground but thirteen hundred feet below, I could see 
the delicate scarf of the Yosemite Fall, drifting airily 
down the great cliff on which I had stood at early 
morning. 

To the south I looked directly down upon a long 
gable that is cut vertically away on its eastern face 
to a precipice, and runs on the west in a steep plane 
to meet the flank of El Capitan. 

The summit of Eagle Peak itself is a satisfactory 
pile of huge leaves and boulders of weathered granite, 
loosely thrown together. As I sat intent upon the wist- 
ful play of light and shade over the distant mountains 
and the pageant of the sky-scenery, I was startled by 
a rattling whistle of wings overhead. Before I could 
get up from the cleft into which, for protection from 
the keen wind, I had wedged myself, the bird was 
gone from view, leaving me in uncertainty as to its 
kind, but willing to believe that I had shared that fine 
solitude with an eagle. 

From Eagle Peak a southwesterly trail of not over 
two miles leads to the summit of El Capitan. It is sel- 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 93 

dom travelled, and in many places is obliterated by 
chaparral. A mountain-trained burro will ordinarily 
pick out a bad trail better than the generality of man- 
kind, but here Adam was at fault and wandered aim- 
lessly about, or stood helplessly gazing back at me 
for instructions. Fastening Teddy's halter-rope to the 
back horn of Adam's pack-saddle, I took the lead and 
they immediately followed, ripping through scrub- 
oak, buck-brush, and manzanita with what seemed 
ostentatious disregard of their packs. 

We feasted as we went on thimble-berries, I on the 
ripe fruit, they impartially on the whole plant, which 
they alternated with fern, bunch-grass, young oak- 
leaves, and herbs of sundry kinds. Now and then a 
mouthful of pennyroyal or spearmint odorized the 
atmosphere agreeably. For some unexplained reason 
none of Nature's children seem to consider the wild 
gooseberry a desirable fruit. The bushes here hung 
full of tempting-looking berries, prickly, but of good 
flavor. No doubt the bear, an absolute omnivore, 
appreciates them, but the bears of the region have 
mostly repaired to the valley, where banquets of 
piquant refuse from the camps are freely spread 
for all. 

The trail crossed several small creeks, but all of 
them were dry. I was somewhat disconcerted at this, 
for I particularly desired to camp on the summit of 
El Capitan, and I knew that I should find no water 
there. I had watered the animals at the meadow, but 
where was my evening tea and morning coffee to come 



94 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

from? As we threaded an unpromising tract of brush 
I heard a sound as of the subterranean trickling of 
water, and traced it to a small hole just big enough 
to admit my hand. By lying face downward I could 
with difficulty reach my arm down to the tiny stream, 
and I devoted ten minutes to filling my canteen with 
a compound of gravel, dead leaves, ants, and water. 

A few handsome sugar pines appeared as the forest 
thinned out. This fine tree, which is here at about the 
upper limit of its growth, is conspicuous even among 
such monarchs as the firs. The lithe branches express 
a steel-like temper, and take a spirited sweep that is 
wholly different from the reserved manner and statu- 
esque symmetry of its companions ; and when the 
tree is hung with full-grown cones there is an opu- 
lence in its aspect that marks it as the head of its 
family. 

The timber ceased suddenly at a shelving expanse 
of rock and sand, and I recognized the contour of 
the vast headland which marks the gateway of the 
valley. Not a blade of grass grows on this barren 
tract, and I followed the western edge of the cliff, look- 
ing for pasturage, until I came to the Ribbon Fall 
Creek. At the head of the 3300-foot fall (which is the 
highest of all the Yosemite waterfalls, but also the 
most ephemeral), I found a little swale of verdure and 
there made camp, staking out the animals among 
grass literally up to their heads and mosquitoes not 
a few. I made a hasty supper and fled, leaving them 
to enjoy their riches and bear their trials alone. 





■j^K:.;.; * 


m 




■^ 


.. -f*"* 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 95 

As for me I was determined to sleep on the very 
crest of El Capitan. A certain nausea has crept into 
my feeling for this famous mountain since eager ad- 
vertisers have claimed it for their own, and publish 
its lineaments on soap- wrappers and beer bottles. But 
up here on this austere and lonely brow, all that could 
be forgotten, and taking my blankets and materials 
for a partial breakfast, I marched back half a mile to 
the summit of the elephantine forehead of the moun- 
tain. . 

I had heard of a monster 'ymv^^x^juniperus juni- 
perorurn^ surpassing all the junipers of Yosemite, that 
grew hereabout, and by the last of the daylight I 
searched for him, hoping to pass my El Capitan night 
beneath or at least beside him. My knowledge of the 
habit of the species ought to have guided me to the 
wind-swept western edge, where next morning I found 
the tree ; but I had to content myself with a gallant hulk 
of Jeffrey pine whose topmast had been blown over 
in some winter's gale and now hung by a few tough 
shreds creaking somewhat dismally in the wind. Here 
I made a royal fire and sat in great content, watching 
the red light fade in the west and congratulating my- 
self on the fulfilment of a long-cherished desire, — 
that I might see my camp-fire smoke ascending from 
the "skyish head" of the Captain of Yosemite. 

Before I turned in I walked a short distance far- 
ther out on the promontory. It was a strange and 
somewhat unearthly situation. In the dim starlight I 
seemed to stand on a grey plain that sloped gradu- 



96 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

ally but perceptibly away on all sides. A few gaunt 
trees, uncertainly seen, showed stark against the 
night sky, and seemed to peer and listen. I walked 
over to the eastern slope and looked down into the 
valley. It was a misty void, in which the gaze sank, 
and sank, as in a bottomless gulf. One dark shape 
loomed in the obscurity, the great arc of mountain 
which soars up to Glacier Point. Beside that there was 
nothing but the pallid glimmer of the rock on which 
I stood, and the stars shining in the indigo vault 
with a faint, high radiance that enhanced the solem- 
nity of their immeasurable distances. The wind, which 
had blown strongly from the east, had almost died 
away, and passed me with a low and dreary sound. 
I might have been the last survivor on an asteroid. 

At five o'clock next morning I was astir and drink- 
ing my coffee. The sky was yellowing in the east, 
and the irregular line of the Sierras was cut upon it 
in opaque, lifeless blue. Overhead the long needles 
of my pine hummed in the dawn wind, a dull, reso- 
nant tone like the reluctant smorzando of a bass-viol. 
The great caiion to the west was deep in sleeping 
mist, and above it a few stars shone greyly in a 
firmament that was still dark, as if the night had re- 
treated there. The air was like poetry, and the "one 
touch of nature" was supplied when a small yellow 
/ bird arrived, fluffed himself out with an easy appear- 
/ ance of taking a chair, and fraternized sociably while 
he awaited my crumbs. 

Then I went down to the brink of the precipice. 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 97 

There is a long, rounded slope to the south, at first 
gentle, then steeply shelving. The ground is a coarse 
granite sand through which the friable rock pushes 
in shelves and ledges. I climbed carefully down 
among huge slabs, and crept out along the edge of a 
flake which leans out over the cliff. A monument of 
piled rocks stands on the verge, and hard by it I 
found the bench-mark of the Geological Survey, re- 
cording 7042 feet of altitude. I was at first tempted 
to lie down and secure an absolutely vertical coup 
d^ceil; but I had no difficulty in refraining when I 
heard the warning tone that the loose rock returned 
when I stamped upon it to test its stability, and I 
contented myself with toppling a block of granite 
over the edge as my proxy. No sound of its striking 
came back from the abyss. 

From a niche among the rocks I looked down 
upon the valley, slowly growing into distinctness as 
the light strengthened. El Capitan Meadows lay di- 
rectly below, a carpet of quiet half-tones, grey-green, 
russet, and umber. The river shone like a ribbon of 
steel, bordered here with white shallows of sand, 
there with deep green of pine and cedar, and again 
with clumps of poplar whose lighter foliage showed 
the first touch of autumn gold. At the foot of the 
cliffs, sharp lines of talus stood boldly out like capes 
into the meadow, ashy grey, or darkly forested with 
pines. The southern wall ran in mile on mile of som- 
bre precipice, alternately rifted with purple shadows 
and scarred with white avalanche scorings. 



98 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The sun rose at length, gilding- the bald crest of 
Sentinel Dome and sending shafts of misty amethyst 
streaming between the outstanding buttresses of the 
walls. The picture was still magnificent, but the deeper 
enchantment passed away as the light increased. I 
made my way to the west cliff and there found my juni- 
per : a sort of arborescent Atlas, twenty-three feet in cir- 
cumference at four feet above the ground. Its height 
does not exceed its girth, and the farthest reaching 
limbs are of about the same length and some five 
feet around near the trunk. The stem rises in thick 
coils, like a twisted column ; every branch and twig 
is furred with the yellow moss of age, and the whit- 
ened twigs and branchlets stream out wildly, like 
grey hair. Yet the tree is in full vigor, the foliage 
dense and brushy, the arms well balanced, and the 
whole appearance expressive of enormous age allied 
with unfailing strength and hardiness. 

As I returned to camp I noticed, attached to a 
small tree, the fluttering remains of a sack which bore 
the advertisement of some brand of flour, of course 
**the best." The fitness of things is apparently of 
small account to most of us, after all our genera- 
tions of culture and decades of magazines. I willingly 
halted and climbed the tree in order to detach the rag, 
and had the pleasure of incinerating it before I left 
the mountain. 

My animals received me with incoherent sounds 
of welcome, and hastened toward me to the limit of 
their ropes. They were standing amid the wreckage 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM 99 

of their feast, surrounded by a cloud of mosquitoes, 
like spendthrifts among the ruins of their fortunes, be- 
set by creditors. I made a second breakfast, packed, 
and about noon started to make my way if I could by 
the ancient trail to Gentry's, on the Big Oak Flat 
road. By returning to the valley over that road I 
should make my circuit exact and complete, and ful- 
fil my purpose in the letter as well as in the spirit. 

Half a mile brought me to a small stream, the 
main Ribbon Fall Creek, crossing which I came 
upon a little hunched-up cabin, doorless, and leaning 
half-a-dozen ways. An old pack-saddle lay near by, 
and a disabled Dutch oven reclined in a Dying-Gla- 
diator attitude on a talus of empty cans that de- 
scended to the stream. On a sleeping-bunk within 
the house lay an object which in the gloom I took 
to be the form of the owner of the dwelling, but 
which proved to be only a wood-rat's nest of impos- 
ing dimensions. Sundry articles of household use lay 
about with that waiting expression which such ob- 
jects in a deserted habitation seem to contract. 

On leaving this house of dejection my troubles 
began. For a quarter of a mile the trail could be 
kept, with difficulty, though for all evidence to the 
contrary it might have been years since anybody had 
travelled over it. But it became more and more ob- 
scure, and I frequently had to tie up the animals 
while I made wide casts before I could recover it 
some distance ahead. At last it ran out on to a 
meadow (Blue-jay Meadow, as I afterwards found it 



loo YOSEMITE TRAILS 

is called), and there vanished finally. The most diligent 
search failed to reveal any token of it coming out on 
the farther side. After wasting much time I decided 
to cut loose and make across country as best I could, 
bearing west and somewhat south, knowing that if I 
could but keep going in that direction I must sooner 
or later strike the road. 

My brave little burros stepped out gamely, and we 
plunged into the forest. It was not long before we 
were entangled in difficulties. Windfallen timber 
blocked us in, whichever way we turned, and we 
spent exciting hours in climbing up and jumping 
down among stockades, moats, and circumvallations 
such as civilian quadrupeds are not often required to 
encounter. They would scramble, packs and all, over 
logs of such corpulence that when their forefeet had 
made the passage their bellies rested on the round. 
A convulsive spasm would bring the hind-legs over, 
and they would stand for a moment gazing eagerly 
at me with an air of asking ''What now?" 

I looked anxiously for blazes, scanning each old 
scar with my glasses in the hope of finding it to be 
of human origin ; but always without avail. It was 
near sundown, and I was beginning to think of work- 
ing down hill to the nearest caiion where I might 
find forage and water before the light failed me, 
when at last I came upon the trail and we cheerfully 
marched straight ahead. The only obstructions now 
were occasional newly fallen trees, and these we 
could generally circumnavigate by breaking through 



A CIRCUIT OF YOSEMITE RIM loi 

patches of stubborn buck-brush or affectionate man- 
zanita. 

In the twilight we tramped industriously along for 
two or three miles, the trail descending rapidly and 
leaving the fir-belt for an open forest of sugar pines, 
yellow pines, and at last cedars. About dark we en- 
tered an old clearing beyond which ran the good 
grey road. I identified the place as being our goal, 
the site of Gentry's Saw-Mill. The mill itself has long 
vanished, but the name and a few ancient planks re- 
main to remind an oblivious world that it has been. 

A quarter of a mile down the road we found water, 
and I camped among sugar pines and dogwood, the 
blossoms of the latter hardly yet withered at this 
altitude of 6000 feet. 

The feed for the animals was scanty and undesir- 
able, but some equine magnifico who had lately 
dined hard by had left a considerable quantity of 
prime oat hay by the roadside, and this, with a few 
handfuls of onions and potatoes which I contributed 
from my own supplies, provided them with a supper 
of unusual attractiveness. 

All that remained for the next day was a common- 
place tramp of five dusty miles down the road to the 
point where, at the foot of El Capitan, it converges 
with the other two roads into Yosemite, — that from 
El Portal by which travellers over the railway now 
enter the valley, and the old stage-road from Raymond 
and Wawona by which they used to arrive (often 
in hysterics) in days of more leisure and less luxury. 



I02 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Lunching at noon by El Capitan bridge, a friendly 
soul who was resting for the midday hour from his 
work on the road, the terrifying dust of which is 
being at last suppressed by a just if procrastinate 
government, and of whom I asked the news of the 
ten days during which I had been out of range of 
news and newspapers, inquired whether I had heard 
about the North Pole. In some alarm I asked him, 
"What?" and then learned that while I had been on 
my puny travels tidings had come that the greatest 
of geographical feats had been accomplished, and 
that the North Pole, the desire, the defier, and the 
death of many dauntless men, had been at last con- 
quered, and, in a manner of speaking, was no more 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE REGION 

THE coniferous forests of the Yosemite Park, 
and of the Sierra in general, surpass all others 
of their kind in America, or indeed in the world, not 
only in the size and beauty of the trees, but in the 
number of species assembled together, and the gran- 
deur of the mountains they are growing on." So says 
Mr. Muir ; and among those who have travelled 
through the sublime woodlands of which he speaks 
there will be no dissenting voice from that high 
praise. 

In the valley itself the timber, fine as it is, is an 
incidental adornment, a feature subordinate to cliffs 
and waterfalls. When one is sight-seeing the mind 
naturally focuses upon the principal objects, and takes 
no account of accessories, beyond observing, perhaps, 
that they obstruct the view. But a forest is not a 
sight, and the forest frame of mind is not a wide-eyed- 
wondering frame of mind, but is made up of innumer- 
able small and quiet sensations, incidents, and remi- 
niscences. Its glades and glooms, its trees and flowers, 
its stealing airs and rivulets, even its sounds, are the 
ingredients of a calm and peaceful mood ; and when- 
ever I find myself leaving the great valley, with its 



104 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

varied wonders and beauties, and entering the un- 
mixed forest, I experience a feeling of comforting 
ease, and relax like a man returning home at evening 
to walk in his garden. I know all these things and 
like them; and I feel that they know and like me 
too. 

I suppose this sensation, which no doubt many- 
people experience, might be traced to a scientific psy- 
chological source. Unless I am mistaken, learned 
men tell us that the branch of our race which peo- 
pled Northern Europe migrated thither from Central 
Asia, consuming in their interrupted journeys a long 
period of time. I imagine the region through which 
they moved like a slowly spreading wave to have 
been at that time a region, generally speaking, of 
forests ; and it seems reasonable to think that in the 
course of their long wanderings the wildeslusi as well 
as the wanderlust would enter deeply into the spirits 
of our sires, to break out in us in what we call spring 
fever, and treat blindly with sarsaparilla or more 
wisely with camping-trips. Be that as it may, every 
good man loves the woodland, and even if our con- 
cerns keep us all our lives out of our heritage, we hope 
to lie down at last under the quiet benediction of slow- 
moving branches. 

The stately beauty and perfection of the trees that 
compose this forest are very impressive to the trav- 
eller ; and when one sees from every summit and open- 
ing its illimitable rise and fall, mountain beyond 
mountain, range beyond range, fading into the wist- 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 105 

ful blue distance, then one recognizes the literal truth 
of Mr. Muir's statement quoted at the beginning of 
this chapter. 

The regularity with which the various species of 
conifer appear at certain altitudes is a matter of un- 
failing interest to the tree-lover. Species succeeds 
species in orderly procession, each of them marked 
by special beauties, and all merging harmoniously 
like the colors of the spectrum. At the lower limit 
of the pine -belt comes the Digger pine (Pinus 
sabiniand)^ also called bull-pine and pifion- or nut- 
pine. (The usual mild anarchy that exists among the 
popular names of natural objects has full play in 
the case of the coniferse, and in common speech the 
names **bull," "pitch," "silver," "red," "yellow," and 
so forth, are generally applied in an indiscriminate 
and misleading manner.) 

This outpost of the pines begins to occur, in the 
Yosemite latitude, at about six hundred feet of ele- 
vation, and is noticed by travellers on the railway to 
El Portal almost as soon as the foothills are reached 
after leaving the San Joaquin Valley at Merced. It is 
always to me a somewhat uncomfortable and unpine- 
like tree, more suggestive of the arid Australian flora 
than of our lusty occidental types. In shape it is loose 
and spindling, and the foliage, though long and well- 
tempered, is so sparse as to give the tree almost a 
dying appearance. The straggling branches have 
a thin-blooded look, and cast a grey, anaemic shade 
that scarcely mitigates the stroke of the California sun. 



io6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

In comparison with the sturdy vigor of the family it is 
just what one might expect to find on the torrid foot- 
hill slopes which it mainly inhabits, where vitality is 
drained away by a sun of semi-desert power, and the 
rainfall is barely sufficient to support tree-life. 

Yet it has a pallid grace of its own, and the lan- 
guid, transparent shapes impart an individual char- 
acter to the landscape, somewhat akin to that which 
the yucca palm gives to the Mojave region. The hand- 
some oval cones are only exceeded in size by those 
of Finns coulteri and Pinus lambertiana, and con- 
tain edible nuts that provide the Indians of the local- 
ity with a relief from the overworked acorn. In the 
aggressive tusks which guard them we seem to see 
the beginning of the quarrelsome traits that mark the 
purely desert growths. 

Next in order appears the pine which preponder- 
ates on the floor of the Yosemite Valley, the yellow 
pine, or pitch pine {Pinus ponderosa). It begins to 
mingle with the sabiniana at about two thousand feet 
of elevation, and continues in its common form up to 
about five thousand feet. This type exhibits the pine 
characteristics of symmetry and shapeliness at their 
best. No other tree is so perfect in its slender taper- 
ing form, and it keeps this perfection remarkably 
even in old age. The bark, of a dull buffy color, is 
arranged in large irregular plates like alligator skin ; 
the foliage is long and of a brilliant dark green, grow- 
ing in fine star-like bursts that well indicate the 
vigor of the species. In the midst of these tassels of 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 107 

foliage the bright brown staminate blossoms make a 
lively contrast in early summer, and later the cones 
are set, usually in twos, but sometimes as many as 
six in a generous cluster. The lower main branches 
of old trees are particularly picturesque, reaching 
outward and downward in lines that are at once 
graceful and elastic, and full of fine Japanese drawing. 

In the sheltered valley this tree grows in perfec- 
tion, and succeeds in fulfilling Ruskin's somewhat ar- 
bitrary statement regarding the pine in general, — 
"Thrust a rod from its last shoot down the stem — 
it shall point to the centre of the earth as long as the 
tree lives." The largest specimen I have found is 
growing about the middle of the valley, close to the 
Ford road, and measures twenty-three and a half 
feet in circumference at five feet above the ground. 
The industrious Yosemite woodpeckers find the thick 
plates of bark well adapted to their housekeeping 
methods, and the grey squirrels levy ample toll upon 
the plentiful cones. The ground under the trees is lit- 
tered with the cores in amazing numbers, and one 
would think that every grove must support a tene- 
ment-house population of invisible squirrels. 

Overlapping the common yellow pine in some 
places but not everywhere, comes what may be called 
a mountain type of the same species, known as the 
Jeffrey variety. It is usually of less height but greater 
spread of limbs, with redder and more broken bark 
and much larger cones. This versatile and adventur- 
ous pine inhabits a wide range of altitude, and has a 



io8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

way of turning up in all manner of unlikely places. 
Wherever conditions of life are hardest, there it sees 
its opportunity, and like Mark Tapley "comes out 
strong " under discouragement. On wind-swept gran- 
ite pavements, which the trees proper to the altitude 
decline with thanks, there the Jeffrey appears, takes 
a wrestler's grip, and holds on like a bull-dog. One of 
these trees has rooted itself on the topmost round of 
the Sentinel Dome, and there romps joyously about 
in the terrific wind that rushes continually over that 
exposed spot, its branches and foliage streaming out 
horizontally like a stormy oriflamme of war. When- 
ever I see it I think of 

" Einar Tamberskelver, bare 
To the winds his golden hair," — 

and a magnificent Saga of the Pine it is that he 
sings. 

On the long promontories that stretch out into the 
Mono plains on the eastern side of the Sierra, this 
brave pine marches out green and sturdy among the 
bleached and wizened desert growths. Wherever you 
find it, it is always heartening and cheerful in bear- 
ing, an entire contrast to the misanthropical juniper 
that often grows with it. The one chooses the stark- 
est places because they suit its own dour temper; 
the other out of pure joie de vivre and love of fight- 
ing. 

The Douglas spruce {Pseudotsuga taxifolid) is 
the most limited in vertical range of all the Sierra 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 109 

conifers. It dislikes extremes of heat and cold, and 
shows everywhere the preference for shade and 
moisture which makes it the preeminent tree of the 
Oregon and Washington forests. It begins to appear 
at about thirty-five hundred feet, growing freely on 
the talus-piles of the southern side of the valley under 
the shadow of the wall. Its upper limit of growth in 
this latitude is about fifty-five hundred feet, and 
the handsomest specimens are usually found at the 
higher elevations. In youth it is a poetic tree, child- 
like and dainty, and in full growth I find it pecul- 
iarly attractive by the contrast of the dark, rugged 
stem with the flowing grace of the sprays of foliage 
that play in sunny zephyrs or droop in the surging 
mists of waterfalls. When the young leaves first 
open they are of a vivid yellow-green that gives the 
tree a particularly lively look, like a Christmas tree 
dressed with lighted candles. The cones are small 
but numerous, growing often in clusters that are as 
graceful and fragrant as hops. 

When one looks down upon a Douglas spruce 
from some cliff under which it is growing, the dis- 
tinctiveness of its structure is beautifully displayed. 
The foliage flows down in hair-like tresses from the 
branchlets, which stand out in fine lines as clearly as 
if drawn on a plan. I have often found it a fasci- 
nating sight to watch from above the play of branch 
and leaf-spray in a gentle wind, when the whip-like 
branches shine like veins of silver on the ground- 
work of waving, weaving foliage. 



no YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The unquestioned king of the pines, as apart from 
the firs and spruces, is the sugar pine {Pinus lam- 
bertiana). There are very few trees of this species 
in the Yosemite Valley, where it is at its lowest limit, 
about four thousand feet. From this altitude it con- 
tinues upwards to almost seven thousand feet, royally 
conspicuous even among the splendid forest of yel- 
low pine, Douglas spruce, silver fir and cedar which 
mixes with it. The shaft is a fine example of tree 
architecture, round, true, and taper, and over two 
hundred feet in height when full grown. The color 
under oblique or level sunlight is a true imperial pur- 
ple, the finely netted bark reflecting the light with 
a dull, healthy polish like buck-horn. At midday it 
has become a shaded spire of smoke-tones, and I 
have seen it by red sunset light kindle into an inten- 
sity of color that was glorious almost to the point of 
solemnity. 

The foliage of the sugar pine gives a particular im- 
pression of grace and lightness. It is short, arranged 
five leaves in a fascicle, and clothes the tree with 
starry sprays which form a lovely foil to the vigorous 
stem and the lean, far-reaching branches. As for the 
cones, they are amazing revelations of Nature's opu- 
lence, and of her love for her favorite tree-family. 
Generally about sixteen inches in length, sometimes 
as much as twenty or even more, they express a royal 
generosity, whether pendent like ornaments from the 
tips of the branches or tossed in careless profusion 
on the forest floor. As they hang ripening in the 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE iii 

brilliant sunshine of midsummer they drip with crys- 
tal gum and glance with prismatic colors. 

When I have found one of these green cones fallen 
prematurely through some mischance from its high 
place, I have been thankful that the Sierra squirrels 
do not ''take after" those questionable monkeys 
whose alleged practice of pelting explorers with 
cocoanuts made a deep impression on my young 
imagination. 'The pleasure of camping and travel- 
ling in these forests would be seriously disturbed if 
one needed to be on the watch for aerial torpedoes 
of three or four pounds' weight which might be 
quietly launched from a height of one or two hun- 
dred feet. 

When one lies awake at early dawn beneath these 
trees, while the lithe arms are traced in sooty black- 
ness against the brightening sky, they seem to ex- 
press a wonderful power and nobility. The mast-like 
stem shoots up with magnificent stateliness ; and 
often some tall and aged tree, barren almost to its 
top, will there produce a crown of branches that 
stream out with every gesture of freedom, compli- 
ance, hopefulness, or severity ; and I will confess that 
I have even found my breath quicken as I drank in 
the vigor and beauty of their lines. 

Scattered throughout the belt which contains the 
sugar pine, yellow pine, and Douglas spruce is the 
cedar {Libocedrus decurrens), commonly called the 
incense cedar. In color and foliage it is a noble 
tree. The bark is a warm, lustrous brown of fine tex- 



112 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

ture, which one may strip off in silky ribbons. It de- 
taches easily from the tree in plank-like shards, and 
furnished the Indians of the region with the ma- 
terial for the picturesque huts (o' chums) which they 
used to inhabit before a too generous civilization en- 
riched them with its packing-cases and coal-oil cans. 
The foliage is particularly handsome, richly carved 
and fronded, and of a deep glossy olive color. 

In perfection of symmetry the young cedar is re- 
markable even among so shapely a race as the coni- 
ferse. It forms a pure geometrical cone with a height 
of about twice its base-diameter, and is so thickly 
clad with foliage as to appear almost solid. As it ap- 
proaches full development, it opens robustly to the 
sun and shows the marked feature of the species, the 
larger limbs growing squarely out and then straight 
up in vigorous attitudes, like the bent arms of an 
athlete. In late summer the tree is thickly powdered 
over with the small vase-like seed-vessels, which as 
they ripen add an autumn tinge to the ferny olive of 
the foliage, and enable the trees to lighten the sombre 
forest with tones of cheerful color. 

At about the altitude of the Yosemite Valley the 
white silver fir {Abies concolor) appears, and soon 
after, the red silver fir {Abies magnified). A few of the 
former may be found in the valley, growing along 
the southern side ; but the true fir-zone lies at from 
six thousand to nine thousand feet, and it is only 
there that the most splendid features of the two great 
firs are revealed. There they form often an unbroken 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 113 

belt, expressing the very noblest of tree beauty, and 
not inferior, in my estimation, even to the Sequoias. 
In fact, if I were called upon to choose the one among 
the conifers that I would live and die by, I should 
choose the red silver fir, with no fear of ever weary- 
ing of its sublime companionship. 

Both trees are perfect parables of order. In youth, 
especially, they surpass every other tree in charm and 
regularity of construction, both as regards their out- 
line and the marvellous perfection of branch and foli- 
age. The fine smooth arms, set in regular formation, 
divide and re-divide again and again, ad infinitum^ 
weaving at last into a maze of exquisitely symmetrical 
twigs and branchlets. To look up at the young tree 
from any point of the circumference is to behold a 
bewildering succession of these intricate and delicate 
branchings, dwindling away less and less, and shim- 
mering with finely broken sunlight until the tree 
seems to perform that feat which Hamlet vainly de- 
sired to achieve, and literally to '*melt, thaw and 
resolve itself into a dew." 

Both the firs attain a majestic growth, and often 
reach a height of over two hundred feet with a girth 
of from twenty to twenty-five or even thirty feet. 
The bark of the mature white fir is a dark ashy grey, 
and of the red, a dusky purple ; both alike rugged 
and deeply furrowed. The two species, though hardly 
distinguishable from each other in general appear- 
ance, are easily known by their foliage, that of the 
white being set in flat, lateral rows, while the shorter 



114 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

and thicker leaves of the red stand up on end like fur, 
or a magnificent sort of plush. A branch of red fir is 
truly a superb object both in color and line. It sweeps 
out with a joyful vigor that carries one's very heart 
with it ; the branchlets spread and sub-divide with in- 
tricate precision, fanning out at the extremity of the 
branch into a rounded curve that is like the spread- 
ing of a wave on a gentle beach. The foliage, darkly, 
healthily green, stands up in the manner of grass, 
tray above tray, and every fan is edged with a silvery 
froth or effervescence by the fresh young growth. 
One branch of it would furnish a room with beauty. 

The cone of the red fir is worthy of such a tree, — 
a generous cylinder with a color and surface of 
peachy richness, distilling rare balsam and exhaling 
an almost spirituous fragrance. It is from six to eight 
inches high and half as wide, built up of a large 
number of flaky scales that are stained at their bases 
with crimson and purple. The white fir cone is ex- 
actly similar, but about one half the dimensions of 
the other. 

I shall not easily forget one summer afternoon in 
the Wawona forest when I sat down to rest by a lit- 
tle spring, hidden among flowery brush and musky- 
smelling fern. Alders and white-flowered dogwood 
grew along the gully which the spring supplied with 
a little thread of water that crept quietly away 
through thickets of ceanothus and azalea. Spiring a 
hundred feet above the lesser trees there rose close 
beside me a young silver fir. It might have been fifty 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 115 

or sixty years old, and was at the very crisis of its 
youthful beauty. It seemed as if it could not yester- 
day have been so transcendent, nor could such per- 
fection last until to-morrow, but that I had chanced 
upon it at the culminating moment of its life, as at 
the blossoming of some glorious orchid. Like a 
young goddess at her bridal, it stood divinely beau- 
tiful, shimmering in a mist of transparent silver just 
tinged with ethereal green. I watched it with de- 
light ; and as the sun declined, his serene rays envel- 
oped the tree in a baptism of light, revealing new 
mazes and mysteries of loveliness. I felt almost as 
though I had violated a sanctuary, and fancied that 
the Angel of the Trees was incorporated and made 
manifest for the moment in a revelation of immortal 
glory. 

The delightful essayist, Mr. A. C. Benson, refers 
somewhere to the feeling we are apt to experience in 
entering suddenly a place of trees or flowers, of some 
silent action having been in progress which we have 
interrupted, and which is suspended while we re- 
main. I felt it that day. Once before, years ago, in a 
high and lonely spot near the southern end of the 
Sierra, I came upon a great company of white, 
gleaming lilies. There were hundreds, perhaps thou- 
sands, of them, and every one of the shining host, 
as it seemed, was endowed with the same unearthly 
perfectness as my silver fir. I remember that I stopped 
and half drew back, with the same abashed feeling 
of having unwittingly strayed into a place where 



ii6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

some heavenly work or play had been performing 
but had ceased at my entrance. There was not a 
movement, nor a sound; it seemed as if the pure 
creatures waited for my withdrawal. Even the sun- 
shine seemed to pause on the multitude of white 
flower-faces that were turned towards me. When I 
think of it now I can feel again the listening silence 
and the trance-like stillness of the scene. 

Contrasting clearly with the firs and mingling here 
and there among them grows the sturdy mountain 
pine {Pinus monticola). It, too, is a giant, but of a dif- 
ferent humor, powerful more than graceful, and expres- 
sive of a rugged, mountainous strength. It begins to 
appear at about eighty-five hundred feet of altitude, 
and continues up to nearly the limit of tree-growth : 
a noticeable tree, widely branching for a pine, with 
bark of a fine rust-red color that seems well suited to 
its hardy strength. The foliage is airy and sensitive 
and resembles that of the sugar pine ; which is true 
also of the dainty tapering cone, though it is not 
one fourth the size of that king of cones. Taken in 
conjunction with the stalwart appearance of the body 
of the tree, the foliage and cone of this species ex- 
hibit a grace and lightness that are very welcome and 
beautiful in the high regions which it inhabits, where 
one expects only stubborn attributes. 

There is a fine tract of mountain pine growing al- 
most unmixed with other trees on the southeasterly 
flank of Clouds' Rest. Standing as they do there 
on a wide and even slope, they display their robust 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 117 

character to the best effect. But handsome as the 
tree is, I have never quite felt for it the love which 
other pines inspire in me. I seem to feel something 
of discord and unfriendliness in it. I do not remem- 
ber, however, that I have ever made camp among 
them, and I think that when I do I shall come to 
understand them better. 

The fir-belt is also the territory of the tamarack or 
lodge -pole -pine {Pi mis contort a^ var. murrayand)^^ 
although the species ranges far below and above it. 
This is the least distinguished in appearance of all 
the pine family, and much the most common, form- 
ing vast homogeneous tracts of forest on the rugged 
plateaus of granite that form a great part of the 
western slope of the Sierra. It is a wiry, grey-coated 
little pine, quite unimposing, rarely growing to more 
than seventy-five feet of height and three or four of 
thickness, but full of friendly virtues and good-com- 
radeship. The foliage is short and stiff, with a tufty, 
foxtail style of growth, the branchlets all curving 
upward in a cheerful manner. The cone is small 
and ordinary, hardly distinguishable while green on 
the tree ; but when it ripens the fertile scales open 
widely while the base remains closed, giving it the 
appearance of a brown rosette. In summer the tree 
is quite showy with the numerous Indian-red blos- 
soms, which burn like points of flame at the heart of 
every tuft of foliage ; and at night, when their color 

* Some botanists distinguish the murrayana variety as a separate 
species, under the name of Finns murrayana. 



ii8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

is enhanced by red camp-fire light, the tree makes a 
strangely brilliant appearance. 

Although the tamarack is not a striking tree in the 
single specimen, it impresses one strongly in the vast 
forests where the species multiplies upon itself un- 
broken, and one sees everywhere the same type re- 
produced to infinity. The commonplace grey stems 
rising closely on all sides become as momentous as 
an army ; and standing at some opening surrounded 
by the illimitable sweep of the forest, one receives 
a deep impression of the power and conquering 
majesty of the tree-kingdoms. 

Every species has its own well-marked character. 
For sheer loveliness the hemlock spruce, or moun- 
tain hemlock (Tsuga inertensiana)^ bears away the 
palm. Appearing on northward-facing slopes at a 
little above eight thousand feet, it comes to perfec- 
tion at from one to two thousand feet higher, where it 
meets the dwarf pine, the dweller on the threshold. 
The pure grace of the tree would render it remark- 
able anywhere ; in these high and lonely altitudes it 
is doubly delightful. The young trees are especially 
beautiful, quite fountain-like in their flow of line, and 
exquisitely feminine and yielding. The foliage is of a 
dark, earnest green, redeemed from sombreness by 
the silver of the young growth. Trailing branches 
sweep to the ground, and all the outer branchlets, 
and even the spiry tips of the trees, droop with a 
fragile grace. The small, dainty cones are borne in 
great profusion on the downward-hanging sprays, 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 119 

enhancing the richness of the tree with their clusters 
of dark purple. 

As it comes to full growth, which may be over a 
hundred feet of height and five of diameter, it takes 
on the ruggedness of bearing that belongs to age 
and stormy experiences. Under the scouring of a 
thousand tempests the bark tans to red and the lower 
limbs disappear, leaving perhaps thirty feet of clean, 
bright stem bare of branches. In general appearance 
the tree then much resembles the red fir, but on a 
near approach the two species are easily distinguish- 
able by the foliage, girlishly graceful in the spruce, 
firmly masculine in the fir. 

The juniper {Juniperus occidentalis) is a kind of 
churlish relative of the conifers, entirely unlike them 
and opposed in every line and instinct to their aspir- 
ing characteristics. For purposes of contrast, nothing 
could be better than this squat, Japanese-wrestler 
looking tree, which one encounters growing in the 
most difficult and uncomfortable places at all eleva- 
tions from six thousand to ten thousand feet. Wher- 
ever storms career most wildly, and on glacial pave- 
ments and ledges of the most uncompromising granite 
where nothing else beside lichens and mosses cares 
to grow, there this embittered tree exists, — it cannot 
be said to flourish, — and hugs itself into a morose 
longevity, like a miser living to a hundred on crusts. 
High up on wind-swept angles of mountain you may 
see them peering and leering down at you, their 
stumpy trunks twisted into alarming contortions. 



I20 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The bark of the juniper is of a cinnamon-red color, 
similar to that of the cedar, and frays out, like it, into 
silky, fibrous ribbons. The stem has often the appear- 
ance of being formed of three or four thick coils that 
have become welded together, and sometimes a grey 
knee or elbow, in appearance like disintegrating bone, 
pushes through the red skin in a grisly, skeleton-like 
manner. 

Even the foliage is of a sour, sage-green hue, with 
a harsh look and an acrimonious odor ; and the fruit, 
a grey misanthropical berry of violent flavor, is just 
what one would expect, and seems well suited to be 
the food of the Clarke crow, whose imprecations most 
often resound from this inhospitable tree. Still, one 
must respect the juniper for its hardiness and self- 
reliance. And there is even humor in the tree, of 
an ugly, surreptitious kind: as there is, too, in the 
Clarke crow, who is himself a sort of Mephistopheles. 
The element of humor is otherwise not much in evi- 
dence in this high region, where Nature still has 
rough work to do, and handles her severest tools. 

Junipers may often be found whose trunks are no 
higher than their circumference at base ; and this is 
not always, though it is sometimes, due to the tree 
having been broken off, or having died, at the top. 
The trunks of perfectly grown trees sometimes taper 
so rapidly that the height may not be more than three 
times the diameter. This is due to the unusual size 
of the branches, the lowest of which are often one 
fourth the thickness of the stem, and push out only 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 121 

two or three feet above the ground ; so that the shape 
of the tree, so far as any shape can be assigned to a 
growth so unconventional and irregular, is that of 
a heavy, flattened bush, much wider than it is high. 

Last of all and least of all, yet in a way finest of 
all the Sierra tree-clans, comes the dwarf pine {Pinus 
albicaulis). It begins to mix among the hemlocks, 
mountain pines, and tamaracks at about ten thou- 
sand feet, and, leaving them all behind, struggles on 
alone up to the limit of tree-life, which in this latitude 
is about twelve thousand feet. This is never a hand- 
some tree, but grows always in a straggling, shapeless 
fashion, branching out in poles that lean at all angles, 
more like a brush growth than a tree. The branch- 
lets are usually thick and not dividing, curving up in 
somewhat unpleasing lines, clothed with tufty foliage. 
The leaves are of an attractive, clean, light green, 
and in late summer provide a strong contrast of 
color for the almost black cones which protrude from 
the tasselled ends of the twigs. With its pale grey 
bark this tree is particularly suggestive of the hard 
white sunlight and the shrouding snow between 
which its life is about equally divided. 

On the high plateaus about timber-line this pine, 
never much over twenty feet in height, sufiEers dwarf- 
ing to a remarkable degree. In exposed places such 
as the Tuolumne Pass, I have found it spreading 
horizontally only a foot or two above the ground, 
crushed flat by the weight of the snow that lies on 
it through fully half the year. The foliage becomes 



122 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

felted into a springy mattress on which I have lain in 
the greatest luxury of ease that is possible to con- 
ceive. Sometimes these shrubby masses are found as 
smooth as a table, the surface being kept planed 
down by the bitter winds that sweep continually over 
them. In places where they are less constantly ex- 
posed to wind, they struggle hard to assert some- 
thing of the tree shape to which they are entitled, 
but they achieve at best a doubtful compromise. I 
have a weird little tree of this species, not quite seven 
inches high, which has all the airs of a veteran of 
centuries. The trunk is four inches high and half an 
inch through, thickening at the head into a ganglion 
of knotty branches, all gnarls, scars, and elbows, on 
which grows a towzled thatch of foliage. It was in 
Cathedral Pass that I came upon this fierce little 
kobold, and I liked the mettlesome look of him so 
much that I pulled him up, root and all, and brought 
him away in my pocket. 

Under one form or other this indomitable pine 
edges its way up to the uttermost limit that Nature 
will allow, twisting and dodging about, shielding its 
devoted head as best it may, only bent upon carry- 
ing forward the standard. When I think of the glori- 
ous winters they experience, the low, crouching skies, 
the whirling storms, the deadly frosts, the hurricanes 
of spring and autumn, and the thrashing rains and 
tearing lightnings of summer, I love and admire and 
envy them beyond all the others, fine as they all are. 
I think that when next I am among them I must 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 123 

make a point of removing one of them carefully to 
the very top of the mountain that it is so set upon 
climbing, and planting it there, live or die, as a re- 
ward. 

On the eastern face of the Sierra, which is much 
steeper than the western, the species are naturally 
somewhat more mingled, though they preserve of 
course the same relative positions. Two other spe- 
cies occur on this side. High up near timber-line 
comes the limber pine {Pinus flexilis). It may easily 
be mistaken at first sight for the tamarack, with 
which it is often associated. It is remarkable that this 
pine has never spread to the western slope, where 
the conditions of tree-growth are in general more 
favorable than on the eastern. No doubt some shade 
of distinction in the quality of climate or soil, that is 
too fine for us but not for this hardy pine to observe, 
rules the point. 

' The level plains and the foothills of the Mono 
Lake region are the home of the nut-pine or piiion- 
pine {Pinus mo7iophylld). This is a quite different 
tree from the nut-pine of the western slope, although, 
like it, it occupies the lowest range of elevation. It 
is a bushy, uninteresting-looking tree, from fifteen to 
thirty feet high, and about one foot in average thick- 
ness of trunk. The leaves, which are short and spiny, 
are set singly on the stiff twigs, whereas the foliage 
of all the other Sierra species is arranged in fascicles 
of two, three, or five leaves. It is the small, egg- 
shaped cone of this tree that supplies the pifion-nut, 



124 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

a thing of small importance to most of us, but a true 
staff of life to the Indians of the region. 

The trees which I have briefly described, plus the 
great Sequoia, spoken of in the succeeding chapter, 
are all the species of coniferae that the visitor to the 
Yosemite region of the Sierra Nevada is likely to 
encounter, though a few other kinds occur in distant 
parts of the range, and still others occupy the Coast 
Range and the seaboard. There is one, the knob- 
cone pine {Pi7ius attenuata)^ which grows at low ele- 
vations on the western slope, but does not come 
under the observation of travellers by any of the or- 
dinary roads into the Yosemite. The nearest point 
to the valley where I am aware of this species grow- 
ing is Texas Hill, some twelve miles west of El 
Portal, on the North Fork of the Merced River. Its 
foliage is long, and set in loose, airy tassels, and the 
tree has the peculiarity of keeping its cones un- 
opened year after year, so that the seeds are released 
only when the tree falls. I have cones of this species 
that were gathered years ago, and remain to-day as 
closely sealed, and as solid and heavy, as on the day 
they were gathered. 

There is a small tree which is found growing in a 
few places in the Yosemite region, particularly on 
the stage-road from El Portal to the valley, against 
which the traveller who may be interested in the 
coniferous trees should be put on his guard. In its 
general appearance, and particularly in its foliage, it 
bears a very close resemblance to the coniferae, but 



FORESTS OF THE YOSEMITE 125 

it does not belong to the family. It is the California 
nutmeg-tree {Tionton caiifornzca), — a slender, spiry 
tree with grey bark, and leaves much like those of 
the white fir, but stronger, and prickly to an offen- 
sive degree. It bears a smooth egg-shaped fruit, 
about an inch and a half long, which contains a nut 
that is considered edible in Japan, where also the 
tree is indigenous. Both fruit and foliage are charged 
with an acrid, astringent juice. The wood is exceed- 
ingly tough, and would be useful if the tree were 
more common. 

The Sierra forest of all but the highest altitudes is 
the home of a goodly array of brush plants. Of them 
all, none is more charming than the chamoebatia, a 
shrubby, foot-high plant, with a pretty, ferny leaf 
and a white flower like that of the strawberry. It 
grows freely in the Wawona locality, at an elevation 
of five or six thousand feet, covering the ground with 
a continuous carpet that is easily mistaken at a dis- 
tance for grass. The stems, matted and wiry, offer a 
pleasant resistance to the foot, and often as I brushed 
through them, I could have fancied myself again 
among the heather had it not been for the pungent 
scent, like that of witch-hazel, which the plant ex- 
hales profusely. Washing up everywhere around the 
bases of the great trees it gives an ideal complete- 
ness to the forest landscape, and all my recollections 
of the splendid timber-belt which it inhabits are per- 
vaded with the healthful odor of this friendly moun- 
taineer. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 

TO the lover of trees it is something of an epoch 
when he enters for the first time the vast virgin 
forest of the Sierra Nevada, and his eye roves, 
with that perfect satisfaction of which delight is only 
the froth and lightest part, so deep and pure is it, 
through and over the countless, countless, countless 
myriads of the stateliest members of the noblest fam- 
ily of trees (for so I rank the conifers). From every 
rise and opening he sees with exultation still, and 
only, the unbroken forest : mountains, yes, leagues 
and ranges of mountains, as far as sight will carry, 
dimming away into blue infinity, still clad with the 
illimitable forest. 

For one loves the forest much as one loves (or 
should love) one's fellow men ; that is to say, both in 
the aggregate and in particular. The tree-lover, sur- 
veying a great expanse of forest, is transported in 
fancy over among the objects of his love. He walks 
in spirit among them, and responds to every individ- 
ual of all the beloved host. He perceives by a mysteri- 
ous sense their distinguishing beauties : the noble 
sweep of this one's broad and level boughs ; how 
that one is braided and shagged with moss ; and 
where that other is rubbed and polished by the horns 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 127 

of deer. He sees and hears, a day^s march away, the 
tinkling monologue of the tiny forest rivulet, creeping 
and stealing about the mossy roots of his friends ; 
yes, and lights his " little friendship fire " by it, pulls 
out and eats his bread and cheese and reads his 
pocket Thoreau by it. So that the quality of a forest, 
like that of mercy, may be said to be ** twice blest." 

If then to the tree-lover it be a privilege to enter 
the great Sierra forest, he will feel almost as if he en- 
gaged in a rite when he stands for the first time in a 
grove of the great Sequoias. If among the innu- 
merable hosts of the pines and firs he finds true com- 
panionship and feels joy and thankfulness, among the 
great Sequoias he will receive a more solemn message 
and return a deeper response. In them we have what 
seems to be the last survival of the Heroic Age of 
the earth, that misty dawn of time when all things, 
man perhaps included, reached the gigantic in stat- 
ure and age. They are an anachronism, an unaccount- 
able oversight, a kind of arboreal Rip Van Winkles ; 
and it is a high distinction of California that it is her 
exhilarating air and her sun-drenched soil that have 
tempted these patriarchs to remain with us in our 
feebler times, instead of joining their old companions 
** the monsters of the Prime " upon some lustier and 
more youthful planet. 

The spectator experiences among the Sequoias 
something, I imagine, of the awe of an Egyptian 
who should be introduced into one of those vast 
temple-halls where he would see ranged on all sides 



128 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the colossal figures of the king-gods of his race ; the 
awe of unutterable age, irresistible power, and infin- 
ite repose. It might be called, in fact, an Egyptian 
impression that is made by these mighty trees upon 
the beholder. They are Egyptian in their size and 
ponderous immobility ; in their color, which is Egyp- 
tian red in the stems of mature trees, while the great 
limbs far overhead are of a strange flesh-bronze hue, 
round, smooth, and gleaming, like Cleopatra's arm ; 
and I cannot conceive of a more magnificently Egyp- 
tian portal to some vast hall or temple than would 
be formed by using two of these huge trunks for pil- 
lars with another laid crosswise for lintel. 

In some other regards the impressiveness of the 
Sequoias is of an architectural kind. This is due 
partly to the incomparable shaft of the tree, which 
seems to stand column-like upon the earth rather 
than to be rooted in it. No limbs break the perfect 
roundness for half the tree's height, only there may 
be thrown out at one or two points a branchlet, 
hardly more than a twig, of delicate foliage, bursting 
through the covering of bark like a spurt of green 
smoke in token of the energy within. These sprays 
of lace-like foliage are a noticeable characteristic, and 
add an unexpected grace and playfulness to the dig- 
nity of the tree. Even very old trees will break out 
in these flights of fancy, like youthful old gentlemen 
who are fond of sporting loud neckties. 

The massiveness of the trunk is relieved also by a 
fluting of the bark which is often so regular as to be 




THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 129 

remarkable, and which adds to the architectural sug- 
gestion. This fluting is often broken up near the base 
of the tree into a network of tracery, the bark run- 
ning into a maze of niches and foliations that is 
richly Gothic and beautiful. As one stands in the 
dream-like silence of these groves of ancient trees, 
the solemnity of their enormous age and size, to- 
gether with the grace and fancifulness of this carved 
and fretted ornamentation, combine to produce a 
cathedral mood of quietude and receptiveness. 

The two species of Sequoia, the 6'. gigantea of the 
Sierra Nevada and the S. sempervirens of the Coast 
Range, seem to be the last survivors of a genus 
which was once widely distributed, and which can be 
traced by its fossil remains throughout Europe and 
Asia, as well as North America. It is remarkable 
and fortunate, in view of that fact, that there is no 
indication of decline in the surviving members of the 
family : rather the contrary, for on all hands the sons 
of the giants are arising in stalwart thousands to 
carry on the royal line. 

Impressive as it is to gaze upon these trees that 
have kept note, as it were, of human history from its 
beginnings, it is at least equally so to imagine the 
course of time with which a sequoia that is now be- 
ginning its career may run parallel. On a moderate 
comparison the Sequoia may look to live fifty years 
for every year of human life. What a kaleidoscope 
of fantastic pictures rises in one's mind when one 
thinks of the possible conditions of life and society 



I30 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

five hundred or a thousand years hence ! Yet the 
Sequoias that are now foot-high seedHngs will then 
be only in what answers with us to youth or boyhood. 
He would be a desperately bold American or Briton 
who should calmly forecast the world-position of his 
fatherland ten centuries hence, when these infant 
trees will hardly be approaching maturity ; while if 
one attempts to look forward through the mists of 
the slow-passing centuries during which they will be 
standing in unchanging strength, the phantasma- 
goria becomes too wild for the mind even to wish to 
dwell upon. It is solemn enough, standing here, to 
conjure up the long drama of the past which these 
great trees have seen enacted ; but it is almost heart- 
shaking to reflect how unimaginably strange will be 
the course of history of which the tree that grows 
from the papery seed which I shake out of last year's 
cone may be the impassive spectator. 

The young Sequoias for the first few years of their 
life show no mark of their royal nature, but crook and 
twist about in a particularly ambitionless manner. 
Their branchlets sprawl out in a short-sleeved, lanky 
fashion, and their heads, as if they were young 
anthropophagi, " do grow beneath their shoulders." 
Standing generally in tangled clumps and thickets, 
they have an awkward, schoolboyish air, very differ- 
ent from that of the pines and firs, which even while 
crowded in their nurseries show their lineage in an 
aristocratic trimness. 

But after a few decades blood begins to tell. The 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 131 

Sequoia becomes conscious of his destiny, and, an- 
swering the inward urge, makes for the skies in a 
climbing, high-hearted fashion that is fine to behold. 
Still the family likeness does not shine out clearly as 
they stand mixed in the general forest of the conifers, 
all of high birth. They keep yet the thin whip-like 
branchlets that grow irregularly from foot to crown, 
by now bare of foliage, but furred instead with yellow 
moss. By the time he reaches his first century of age, 
however, being then perhaps eighty feet high, the 
young tree sloughs his skin and begins to take on the 
noble color and habit that mark him at a glance as 
a sequoia, of the old nobility of the tree-creation. He 
" mews his mighty youth," and casting off with it the 
undistinguished features of childhood, the trunk, clean, 
bright, and tapering, which is to bear aloft his mas- 
sive head through the long procession of the cen- 
turies, stands revealed. 

By five hundred years the full color is taken, the 
taper has widened to a slight curve at the foot, and 
the pointed reticulation of the bark is noticeable. The 
characteristic shape is now fully marked, — the head 
a sugar-loaf cone, remarkable in its regularity of out- 
line, and the trunk a steadfast column of shining red. 
Thenceforward they go from strength to strength, 
ever more glorious and excellent. Their deep-rifted 
bark clothes them with dignity and age ; the great 
limbs, mossed and lichened, stand out oak-like above 
and athwart the pines and firs whose dainty tops spire 
a hundred feet into the air ; and still higher, their 



132 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

sumptuous tops are built up in dense bosses of corded 
foliage. In those high places they bear their multitu- 
dinous cones, pendent singly or in twos or threes on 
stout, bracted stems ; till in due time the sun ripens 
them and coaxes them to open their tight-locked 
caskets, and the wind, careful old forester, winnows 
out the flaky seeds and sows them in generous broad- 
cast over the warm forest floor. 

When the first millennium is reached the general 
shape is unchanged, only that the curve at the base is 
wider, and the lowest limbs are becoming weary and 
trend downward from the weight of the snows of un- 
counted winters. Another age passes, and Atlas has 
planted his feet still wider as he bears up the enor- 
mous weight. The symmetry is broken : he has now 
entered upon middle age, and his individual features 
are stamped upon him. You may tell Achilles from 
Agamemnon, and Ajax from Menelaus. Here a thun- 
der-bolt has ploughed a heavy furrow, and that fear- 
ful scar marks the place where a tree-like arm was 
torn away. 

A second millennium passes, with thirty more gen- 
erations of the sons of men, and the Sequoia shows no 
change but that he has settled at his base into a con- 
vex curve, which may be reversed as it enters the 
ground ; — a very beautiful form, exhibiting the per- 
fect combination of strength with grace which marks 
this noblest of trees. From then onward Time has no 
dominion over him, and the passage of centuries does 
but mark his inexhaustible fertility and power. 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 133 

A thunder-storm in this forest is a memorable ex- 
perience, and one which even enhances the awe of the 
great Sequoias. I was roaming- one day about the 
lower Mariposa Grove, commiserating the tourists 
who were driven swiftly past on schedule, when I be- 
came aware of that quickening of the senses which 
one feels before a heavy storm. I had noticed an 
unusual quietness of the population of the brush, the 
birds going about their concerns with a serious air 
that was quaint and amusing. The robins in particu- 
lar foraged silently through the silent woods, passing 
and repassing one another alternately with that comi- 
cal appearance of being pushed in jerks from behind, 
like perambulators. The snow-bird's soliloquies were 
carried on under his breath : even the jay, impudent 
and voluble in general beyond the wont of birds, re- 
frained himself and pursued his persecutions almost 
politely. 

Suddenly a heavy wind roared overhead, from 
which the firs and pines recoiled ; but I noticed that 
the Sequoias stood stately and unmoving, only their 
foliage was roughly tossed. Then came a wild slither 
of lightning, then a crash of thunder, and then the 
rain came tearing down. For ten minutes the ele- 
ments were in a paroxysm ; lightning thrust and 
parried, thunder roared incoherent applause, and the 
rain fell savagely as if it were flung by an angry- 
hand. Then with another burst of wind, that filled 
the air with sodden tassels of foliage, the storm 
passed on, and the^only sound was that of a hundred 



134 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

rills trilling tiny carillons. When one considers how 
many times the thunderbolts must have hurtled about 
these ancient trees it is astonishing that one of them 
is left standing. 

The roots of the Sequoia are noticeably short, as- 
tonishingly so for the enormous growth of the tree. 
The base, as one sees by trees that have fallen, con- 
sists of a number of short, stout tentacles, and there 
is no taproot. It seems a miracle that the tree can 
stand, and still more that it can grow. It must draw 
directly from the air almost all its sustenance ; but 
then, what air it is ! I suppose there flows in the 
Sequoia's mighty veins not the common earth-drawn 
sap of trees, but some celestial ichor, such, in fact, as 
would account for their almost immortality. For the 
Sequoia is all but imperishable, even when over- 
thrown, and trees that can be proved to have lain for 
two or three hundred years show no trace of decay. 
Only two things can destroy them : Fire, the rapa- 
cious element, and Man, the rapacious pygmy. Even 
fire the Sequoias can almost defy, wrapped in their 
panoply of bark of two feet thickness ; but man, — 
there is something pathetic in the fact that nothing 
can stand against him. He is put, as it were, on his 
honor, and a weak defence it has proved when 
weighed against gold. It is a shocking thing to see 
any tree cut down, — a sycamore, an oak, an elm : 
that living green tower, with all its halls and cham- 
bers and galleries of whispering delight, which Na- 
ture with her great patience has laboriously built up 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 135 

to perf ectness, — to see it so briefly, so trivially, all 
undone. But the Sequoias, one wonders that any one 
could bring- himself to put axe or saw to them. How- 
ever, although the individual man is not to be trusted 
when he smells gold, he yet, in the aggregate, has 
sensibilities under his pachydermatous rind, and can 
be prevailed upon not to murder his grandfather : so 
that practically all the great trees are now protected, 
and have been enclosed in national parks. 

Since my first acquaintance with the Sequoias I 
had cherished a desire to sleep with them. Many 
times I had enjoyed the hospitality of the friendly 
guardian of the Mariposa Grove, and had slept be- 
side the generous fires that cheer his lonely cabin. 
But I had a particular wish to camp for a night 
under that tree of trees, the Grizzly Giant ; and one 
clear summer night I shouldered my blankets, and 
with a frugal half-breakfast in my pocket marched 
off to keep my tryst. 

The forest through which I tramped was dimly 
lighted by a half moon. The stars burned with a still, 
high radiance. Straight, silent, and vast the Sequoias 
stood up into the night, while the moonlight crept 
quietly over the open spaces of the forest and flecked 
with ghostly silver the deep-channelled stems of the 
immemorial trees. It was very quiet ; only now and 
then a bird twittered, or there was a sudden rush 
in the undergrowth, or the distant hooting of an 
owl. The dead firs and pines, white and barkless, 
gleamed pale in the moonlight, and the innumerable 



136 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

pinnacles of the conifers rose on all sides into a sky 
of clear darkness. A cool breeze met and passed me, 
and the foliage played for a moment like the restless 
fingers of a dreaming child, then was again intensely 
still. 

I wandered on and on in a mood of vagrant re- 
verie, often stopping to listen to the flawless silence 
and to delight in the ageless virginity of the earth. 
Suddenly I came upon the giant, a vast black shape, 
rising unexpectedly close before me. The moon 
chanced to be shining just behind him, and made a 
soft and wistful glory among the forest of branchlets, 
twigs, and foliage of his head. The mighty shadow 
was projected toward me, the arms traced in gro- 
tesque shapes, intensely black, upon the open glade 
that surrounds this king of trees. (How many times, 
I wondered, had that shadow passed, with the solemn 
imperceptibility of Time itself, over that silver earth- 
dial ?) Huge as its bulk is by day, it was multiplied 
tenfold in the peering light of night, when details 
were obscured and only size and shape were left to 
possess the imagination. 

To me that night it was an awful tree. I felt much 
as one might who, walking among the grey ruins of 
Babylon or Thebes, should come upon some prime- 
val man, ancient as the very earth, who, overlooked 
by death, had lived on from age to age, and might 
now live to the last day of Time. Its great arms 
were uplifted as if in serene adoration, and all around, 
the lesser forest stood aloof, like the worshippers in 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 137 

an outer temple - court, while this, their high - priest, 
communed alone. And when I reflected that on the 
night before the Crucifixion when Christ stood in 
Pilate's hall, this tree was standing much as it stood 
now, lifting its arms, ancient even then, to the hushed 
sky, it seemed to take on in truth the character of an 
unconscious intercessor, a representative of the awe- 
stricken mute creation. 

In the presence of this monument of Time, one's 
thoughts take the same solemn and peaceful tone 
that comes upon them under a wide, starry sky ; a 
solemnity so deep that it rises into joy ; a peace so 
absolute that it touches the infinite goodness. It is a 
place in which to go over one's favorite poems ; for 
instance, Milton's ** Ode on Time." The great lines 
incorporate themselves, and stand about one like the 
vast columns of the trees, forming a temple in which 
the mind ranges more freely than is its wont, with a 
clearer vision and a deeper understanding. 

I rolled myself in my blankets and tried to sleep, 
intending to be up at daybreak to enjoy the hour be- 
fore sunrise. But it was long before I became un- 
conscious. Lying at the foot of the giant I gazed up, 
and felt more than saw the great bole sweep up ma- 
jestically into the night. The moon, now setting, 
touched with soft brightness the limbs that stood out 
far above me. The silence was profound, and the 
owl's hooting echoed around the forest as if it were 
an empty room. All the old solemnity of night was 
upon the world, and the riddle of the Sphinx was 



138 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

still unanswered. This old tree should know some- 
thing of it, but the wisdom of perhaps threescore cen- 
turies is locked in its iron heart. 

At last I fell asleep, but soon was awake again. 
The moon was down, and the velvet blackness was 
pierced by innumerable stars. The Great Bear glinted 
between the bossy plumes of the firs and pines whose 
spires outlined the mat of open sky. Two sharp re- 
ports broke the stillness; it was the sound of the 
breaking and fall of a great limb from some lord of 
the forest. I slept and awoke, and slept and awoke, 
again and again. A faint silvery blueness grew in the 
east, a pure, dark light. The stars receded, lingered, 
glimmered, and died. The cold dawn-wind blew (that 
unearthly wind, eternally as fresh as on the first 
morning of creation), and the hearse-like plumes 
tossed for a moment, then again were still. The first 
bird awoke and twittered faintly ; another answered, 
and another, and then many, with rustlings in the 
low brush close to where I lay. A squirrel barked. 
It was a quarter to four. 

I rose and wandered through the forest, eating my 
unprodigal breakfast with zest and sober exhilaration, 
and drinking a draught of icy water at the spring. 
The owl hooted once, reporting his night-watch 
ended. Soon the sun touched hesitatingly the top- 
most arm of the great tree ; then, in a moment, the 
whole head kindled and blazed like a beacon above 
the lower forest. 

As I take my way slowly back, the day is spread- 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 139 

ing and flowing, mile on mile, mountain on mountain, 
lifting the shadows as the sun lifts vapor. The trail 
of the old grey coyote is fresh on my own last night's 
tracks. Slinking and grinning and slanting he goes, 
lean and wary, to his rock-pile den. Glancing back I 
wave farewell to the giant, whose sunlit face glows 
cheerfully down at me in reply. The greatest arm, 
turned to the south, carries a magnificent suggestion 
of prowess and adventure, the long tapering shaft at 
its end standing out and up like the bowsprit of a tall 
Indiaman. What, old hero, is thy heart still so young? 
Adios ! adios I 

And here let me say that I for one hope that when 
the great clock that tells the centuries marks the last 
of the Grizzly Giant's innumerable days, nothing will 
be done to avert his fall. It would be a sort of im- 
piety, an indecency almost; as if one should prop 
and bolster up a dead king on his throne to be gazed 
at. He is too illustrious a thing for us to meddle with ; 
and surely he will have earned his rest. 

No conception whatever of the majesty of the great 
Sequoias is possible to be conveyed by statements of 
their size. What idea of Charlemagne would you get 
from his tailor's measurements ? I myself always feel 
that, as illustrating the wonders or beauties of Nature, 
processions and columns of figures (like the well- 
meant but desolating chatter of cathedral - guides) 
detract from instead of adding to one's vital im- 
pression. Speaking in terms of phrenology, I imagine 
that the "bump" — excuse the inept word — of ven- 



I40 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

eration, for instance, would be found retreated into 
the farthest possible corner of the cranium from the 
one that revels in mathematics. When they told me 
that the Washington tree was a hundred and one feet 
in circumference and two hundred and forty-five feet 
high, I only found that I suffered a painful relapse, 
for I had just been seeing it infinitely greater. One 
needs to see such things with the spirit : the mind 
sees them about one tenth of their size. Lying down 
at the foot of the pedestal of Grizzly Giant for an hour 
of enchantment, seeing and hearing invisible and in- 
audible things, a plague on the gowk who blunders 
into my dream with *' Half a million feet of lumber in 
that tree, sir I" Is that all there is in that tree? I as- 
sure you, my friend, I can see vastly more in it if you 
will but leave me alone. 

But then, I am driven to suppose that I am singular 
in my feeling for the great Sequoias as objects of 
dignity and glory. I cannot understand how, other- 
wise, the childish, unsightly, and paltry practice could 
have arisen, and could continue apparently without 
objection, of labelling them with the names of cities, 
states, and persons. I confess I am amazed at the gen- 
eral obliviousness to the disgrace of the thing, even 
among cultivated persons, and am compelled to be- 
lieve that the people who come to view them have 
no real appreciation of their grandeur, but look upon 
them merely with a Barnum eye as curiosities and 
" big things." Their admiration for the Sequoias 
seems to be of a commonplace and commercial kind, 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 141 

for there is no recognition of the anomaly involved in 
disfiguring objects of such nobility and beauty with 
hideous tin labels. I am sure that to every thoughtful 
person the charm and impressiveness of these groves 
of ageless trees are greatly spoiled by this fatuous and 
trivial proceeding ; and I can but hope that some day 
the authorities will cease to consider the Sequoia for- 
ests as freak museums, but with a better appreciation 
of their value and splendor will order the removal of 
these ignoble defacements. 

A feature of the Sequoias which always interested 
me is the strange manner in which they receive and 
hold the earliest and last light of the day. Often I 
have watched some great tree at sunset, as it stood 
facing the altar-fire of the west. Slowly the red light 
left its base, passed up the columnar trunk, and burned 
in a lingering glow on the many - branched head ; 
then reluctantly, imperceptibly, faded and died. But 
for an hour still, and long after the lesser forest had 
sunk into darkness, the Sequoia's high smooth bole 
held the light, and shone as if by its own preeminent 
glory and strength. 

Often, too, when I have been camped beneath them, 
waking when the dawn had hardly begun to brighten 
the eastern sky I have seen their tops begin to flush 
and glow above the sleeping pines and firs : like 
prophets who caught and rejoiced in the vision before 
the rest. And when a sunset or sunrise redder than 
usual has lighted them, I have seen their color deepen 
to a hue that was almost ominous, and they have 



142 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

burned with a volcanic intensity, the violence of 
which, in conjunction with the majesty of their de- 
meanor, afEects one in much the same manner as the 
reading of a great drama. 

The Sequoias grow always upon hill-sides, and thus 
their beauty of proportion may be fully observed. 
There is nothing to obscure them unless it be the 
growth of intervening conifers, for no other families 
of trees inhabit the Sequoia zone : only bushes and 
low-growing shrubs share these choice places with 
gardens of flowers and meadowlets of greenest grass. 
Little trickles of water steal and tinkle almost unseen 
in their narrow channels, and spread here and there 
into small pools that charmingly mirror sky, and 
foliage, and fluted bole. 

Around these basins the bird-life of the forest loves 
to centre, peopling the hazels, currants, and chinqua- 
pins with multitudinous voices. Hither come the deer 
to drink, and mixed with their dainty tracks you may 
often find the big round pads of the mountain-lion 
and the coyote's smaller footprints. The summer air 
swarms with floating and darting insects, playing out 
their day-lives with tragic unconcern amid the monu- 
mental trees. As I sat ruminating at the foot of one of 
these oldest-born of Time, I could not be unconscious 
of the irony of man's small moralizings : but then, 
length of mortal days is a vain criterion, for, after all, 
with a bit of iron one could soon undo the growth of 
a hundred generations of his own measure of time. 

It is not surprising that one should experience a 



THE GREAT SEQUOIAS 143 

certain soberness of feeling* in bidding farewell to the 
great Sequoias. Shall I (I asked myself) look down 
from some immortal sphere upon these trees a mil- 
lennium hence, and will they still be standing as I see 
them now, changelessly watching the unchanging 
sky ? It may well be ; I deeply hope it will be. As I pon- 
dered the question, and looked with love and rever- 
ence upon them, the massy tasselled plumes, moving 
softly in the sunny air, seemed to say, "Yes, we shall 
meet again." And with a long, backward gaze I an- 
swered, *' Yes, yes ; surely, surely ; farewell, farewell." 



CHAPTER X 

THE WAWONA COUNTRY 

WAWONA lies sequestered at the bottom of a 
bowl of forested mountains. The South Fork 
of the Merced River emerges here from its narrow 
cafion into a gentle expanse of meadow, through 
which it dreams a short course before it is again 
caught and imprisoned by its rough gaoler. 

All forest places are places of rest, and meadows and 
valleys are even more so in their nature. Wawona 
combines them all, and indeed I do not know a more 
idyllic spot. Seclusion is in the very air, and its beauty 
is of that gentle and perfect quality that does not so 
much command one's admiration as it quietly capti- 
vates one's heart. Even its wonders, the great Se- 
quoias, are friendly wonders, living and personal ; 
and I for one always feel that if Yosemite has the 
greater glory, Wawona has the deeper charm. 

Wawona, moreover, is classic ground. Fifty years 
ago, when California was very young indeed, Clark's 
Station, as the place was then called, was the centre 
of the life of the Sierra backwoods. The lower creeks 
and reaches of the Merced as much as anywhere were 
the scene of the boisterous epic which Bret Harte has 
immortalized. The names on the map of the region 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 145 

are themselves a directory of picturesque episodes ; 
and along every creek are relics of the Golden Age, 
— old shafts, and uncouth mounds of dirt; some of 
them tokens of "prospects" only, to which such a 
name as ** Nary Red " might have appertained ; others 
which you look at with respect as your driver, point- 
ing with his whip up some cheerless cafion, remarks 
that " a half a million was took out of that there gully. 
Who by ? Old man Dougan, him as they call Hard 
Luck Sime, down to Mariposa. Where's the hard 
luck come in? Well, you see it was this-a-way : — " 
and there follows a chapter from life, a wild but fully 
credible story, beginning in toil and hardy bouts with 
Fortune, traversing a spectacular region of glitter and 
riot, and ending in poverty and crime. 

Here and there you may come upon an abandoned 
arrastra^ the ponderous water-wheel warped and sag- 
ging under a long alternation of dry and wet seasons. 
In one such spot which I encountered the ghosts of 
the Fifties came crowding thickly around me. There 
lay the great stones still beside the pit, the rotting 
cables still holding by a rough mortising of lead. The 
rough-hewn timbers were pulling apart, and shed out, 
when one tapped them, a yellow, lifeless dust from a 
thousand worm-holes. Skeletons of chairs, scraps of 
looking-glass, and such debris lay about. Mixed with 
mouldy rags and sacking were shreds of a woman's 
finery, frills and ruffles; and nailed to one of the 
empty window-frames, half hidden by giant lupines, 
was a little bird-cage made of slips of cedar, from 



146 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

which the mocking-bird or meadow-lark that once 
made it his unwilling home had long been emanci- 
pated. Adjoining the house was an enclosure of half- 
an-acre or so. The fence lay on the ground, and in 
the long grass two rose-bushes and a lilac were slowly- 
strangling to death. The place seemed to hold the 
memory of some very human action ; and I was fain 
to hope that the cage and roses might mark it as an 
innocent drama of love and children's laughter. 

A few miles east of Wawona stands a sightly peak, 
Mount Raymond, which carries its snow well into 
midsummer, although it rises only forty-five hundred 
feet above the warm and sheltered valley. One sunny 
day of early summer, leaving my camp in the upper 
Mariposa Grove of Sequoias, I started leisurely on 
the easy ascent. Making due east and keeping to the 
ridge which here forms the watershed between the 
Merced and San Joaquin river systems, I entered the 
forest, which here is principally of the red and white 
firs. The delightful company of these my favorite 
trees constantly drew me into side explorations, and 
delayed me into a saunter. Now and then faint traces 
of a blazed trail appeared, but they were so doubt- 
ful and elusive that it was fortunate that there was 
no difficulty in keeping my direction without their 
help. The trail, moreover, was often blocked by fallen 
trees that made ramparts of a man's height, and of- 
fered the choice of climbing convex walls or making 
circuits which were often prolonged by unexpected 
entanglements. On the north side of the ridge the 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 147 

mountain ran steeply down in an unbroken slope of 
thirty-five hundred feet to the river ; on the south the 
slope was not so sharp and was somewhat more broken. 

The timber thinned out to a scantier growth as I 
left the fir-belt. The brush grew sparse and stunted, 
and patches of snow lay in the hollows. Then rather 
suddenly I passed out on to bare rock, and straight 
ahead rose the peak, glistening white and cold. Here 
it became necessary to keep to the southern slope, 
for the snow on the other was treacherously soft and 
shot down at an uncomfortable angle, unbroken but 
for a few black bolts of rock or decapitated stumps 
of pine. 

Heavy blue clouds were massing in the south and 
east, and the wind suddenly blew from the same 
quarter in heavy gusts and with a bitter rawness. I 
began to have a suspicion that a storm was brewing, 
but was unprepared for the abruptness with which it 
came. It was late in the season for snow to fall, so 
that I was surprised to see the first warning flakes. 
It was not a comfortable spot in which to stand even 
a short siege. The storm was coming from the south, 
and I was consequently exposed to its full force, as I 
had no desire to bivouac on the steep, soft snowfield 
of the northern slope, especially in the strong wind 
that was now blowing. I was well above the main 
forest belt, and the few isolated Jeffrey pines within 
reach were too small to afford any shelter. Under 
the circumstances I judged it best to hurry forward 
and try to reach some favorable spot before the height 



148 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

of the storm was upon me. I was not far from the 
summit, and after twenty minutes of pretty violent 
exertion I arrived there, and found partial shelter 
under the topmost point of the mountain. 

Almost on the moment the storm reached me, and 
I was enveloped in a swirl of snow that charged at 
me horizontally with dizzying velocity. I flattened 
myself against the friendly rock that bore the brunt 
of the onset, and debated what was best to do. I had 
no fear that the storm would last longer than an hour 
or two at most, but I was heated with the exertion 
of the climb, and in the icy temperature, and without 
opportunity of exercise, I began to chill at an alarm- 
ing rate. Fortunately, after the first blinding gusts 
had spent themselves the snow lightened somewhat, 
and I seized the moment to make a sortie in search 
of dry brushwood for a fire, if I could succeed in 
kindling one. Fifty yards down the mountain side 
I found what I wanted, and gathering an armful, I 
scurried back to shelter. In a few minutes, by ma- 
noeuvring with coat and sombrero I had cherished 
a few twigs into burning, but then had much ado to 
keep them together in the furious wind. No sooner 
would I get them fairly ablaze than they would be 
contemptuously swept off by the wind into the snow- 
filled air. Again and again I tried, with numbing 
fingers, while my little stock of matches decreased 
until I began to lose hope. But at last I got a good 
blaze, and then, after another sally for larger fuel, I 
sat down in great exhilaration. 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 149 

If I had set my mind to imagine the best possible 
experience for the day I could not have succeeded 
half so well. Here I was, on the summit of my first 
Sierra peak thus far, snugly sheltered in the middle 
of a snowstorm which could not, I felt sure, last long 
enough to become dangerous ; with a noble fire roar- 
ing defiance to the screaming wind, lion against pan- 
ther ; only midday, with time and daylight to spare ; 
lunch in pocket, with pipe and tobacco to follow. It 
was huge luck. I even found in my pocket a small 
quantity of tea. Quickly I filled my tin cup with snow, 
and in a few minutes had a cup of boiling amber 
fragrance ready to accompany my bread and cheese. 
Then I sat down, back to my stout rock and feet to 
the fire, and rejoiced in the hurly-burly, while my 
pipe-bowl glowed almost to the point of incandes- 
cence with the intense combustion. 

All the time the storm came whirling past, the flakes 
shooting by level in the heavy gusts as if they had 
been fired from a gun, and I sat and watched them 
stream away into the void. My bivouac was on the 
very edge of the snow-slope, so that the fire gradually 
ate out a semicircle of the snow-cliff opposite me. It 
was an inspiriting experience. I was in a little world 
alone with the lusty elements, sometimes unable to 
see for ten feet around me : above and all about was 
nothing but the whirling white void, from which and 
into which the crowding snowflakes hurried, seeming 
to push upon one another in their silent haste to be 
gone. 



I50 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Suddenly it brightened, and the leaden dullness 
changed to a silvery glow like that we used to see 
on the faces of angels in our childhood's dreams. In 
another minute, while I wondered at the quickness 
of the change, a thin sunlight washed past me, and 
I looked up to see the last flakes pelting like black 
specks across the glistening haze of the sky. Two 
minutes more, and the storm was over ; I could see its 
rearguard, blue and misty, crossing the gorge to the 
north. Then through the snowy veil the eastern peaks 
began to glimmer, whitely glorious under a broken 
sky. Looking over the sharp northern edge of the 
mountain, Wawona Meadows glinted greenly in the 
sun, and all around on west, north, and east, the wide 
slopes, blue and dark with timber, were flecked with 
rapid cloud-shadows. 

Opposite gleamed the stony forehead of Wawona 
Dome, and midway between, but far below, the river 
ran palely. I fancied I could hear its hoarse cry. 
Turning to the south I saw a high, summery sky in 
which floated bands of little fleecy clouds, and along 
the horizon lay the faint fawn-color stretches of the 
valley of the San Joaquin. Nearer, in middle distance, 
the forest rose higher and higher, running in wavy 
undulations ; and nearer yet it was broken by patches 
of gleaming snow. From a hollow not five miles away 
smoke was rising : alas, it marked a lumber-camp. 

Though the storm was over the icy wind still blew, 
and more clouds were massing. By the middle of the 
afternoon I began the return, keeping closer to the 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 151 

spine of the mountain than in the ascent. The ex- 
hilaration of the wild da)^ and place gave every sense 
its widest range, and I noted a hundred new things 
with quickened sympathy and perception, — the 
quaint, inch-high blossoms that trembled in the wind 
in such myriads that I almost believed I could catch 
the sound of their vibrations ; the angry cry of a hawk 
fighting his way up wind and compelled to veer and 
temporize, against his haughty nature ; the snow-bird 
that, blown almost into my face, chirped a humorous 
apology as he swung over the ridge ; the Douglas 
squirrel who disputed my passing under his tree so 
viciously that he nearly barked himself off from it and 
was fain to scramble up again ignominiously ; the 
dwarf oaks just in bud as though it were February, 
that splayed over the rocky ground ; the dwarf cur- 
rants that seemed grotesquely trying to clamber away 
out of sight in an awkward, high-legged fashion, like 
spiders ; and the young ten and twelve foot firs still 
lying full length and half buried under last winter's 
snow, that sprang up and threw handfuls of frozen 
snow in my face when I gave them a lift to free 
them from their covering. And so back again to my 
camp among the great Sequoias, standing dark and 
stately against the fire-strewn sky of a still stormy 
sunset. 

On another expedition I made in the Wawona re- 
gion, I had the company of a lanky Stanford under- 
graduate who was recuperating at the hotel from the 
stress of examinations. He was an ardent fisherman, 



152 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

and kindled at my mention of a chain of lakes, of high 
repute among the craft, that lie up on the high pla- 
teau over which the Chilnualna Creek flows to its 
leap into the chasm that opens beside Wawona Dome. 
It was early in the summer, and the trail beyond the 
head of the fall had not been travelled that season ; 
but that was all the better. So one morning Long- 
shanks and I marched out upon our quest. 

For a mile or two our way led through the valley 
forest, where now, at the end of May, every sunny 
opening was enamelled with fresh grass and flashed 
blue with lupines, lilac with cyclamens, and white 
with the large nemophila of the Sierra. Half an hour 
brought us to the foot of the falls of the Chilnualna. 
These falls have been so much eclipsed in fame by 
the great waterfalls of the Yosemite that they are 
not as much celebrated ^as their fantastic beauty de- 
serves. Without depreciating the glories of the mighty 
cataracts of the valley, I acknowledge that I for one 
find these less renowned falls equally beautiful and 
more romantic. The lower part of the descent is an 
alternation of boisterous cascades and most seductive 
pools. The wayward water every moment changes 
its mood, now plunging in bursts of hissing spray, 
now circling in pools where you wonder whether some 
slender naiad has not slipped under the rocking water 
at your approach, and fancy that it is the lifting and 
spreading of her hair that makes that misty gloom in 
the emerald depths. The rocks are of a formation 
which breaks vertically, and the water shoulders its 




A TRAIL IN THE WAWONA FOREST 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 153 

way among the obstructing cubes and pillars in a 
thousand bolts of white thunder. 

From the foot of the fall the trail starts away on a 
wide detour, tacking in legs and reaches that seem 
to take a most unreasonable circuit. Fresh tracks of 
deer accompanied us, and presently we came upon a 
group of three quietly feeding seventy or eighty 
yards ahead. For a few moments they did not see us ; 
then as our scent reached them their heads went up 
all on the same instant, as if by clockwork, and they 
stood gazing with nervous curiosity, but with no sign 
of fear. After a long pause two of them went on graz- 
ing, while the other from time to time scratched his 
ear with a quaint expression, apparently wondering 
how much longer we meant to stand staring at no- 
thing. When at last we started toward them they 
allowed us to approach within forty yards, before 
with two or three great bounds they vanished into 
the friendly chaparral. 

A hundred varieties of blossoming plants called for 
notice and admiration : delicate iris, that embodiment 
of French elegance, pushed up through the foot-high 
thicket of chamoebatia; the manzanita was still in 
bloom at this elevation, though by now its "little 
apples " were ripening in the valley below ; and many 
varieties of compositae shone up with friendly re- 
minders of English meadows 'dappled with daisies 
and dandelions. Moreover, there was continual inter- 
est in noting the exits and the entrances of the 
various conifers as we climbed, species after species 



154 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

appearing, waxing to its prime, waning, and disap- 
pearing. 

The traveller in these mountains is generally in the 
company of three kinds of coniferous trees, — the one 
through whose proper belt he happens to be passing, 
the one next below, and the one next above it. One 
comes after a time to feel the changes subjectively, as 
it were, becoming aware of the tree-company one is 
in, almost without noticing it, by a kind of intuitive 
knowledge. Without consciously observing the tran- 
sition I find myself in a yellow pine mood, or a red 
fir mood, or a tamarack mood, my senses automati- 
cally taking their key from the nature of the prevail- 
ing forest. When I enter the tamaracks, for instance, 
the background of my mind shifts into a sense of the 
illimitable, weird, and dreary : the yellow pines affect 
me with laziness and easy views of life: among the 
Sequoias my consciousness takes on an Egyptian 
tinge : I am somehow aware of crocodiles and ibises. 
Every species has its own atmosphere, and I fancy 
that if I were led blindfolded through the Sierra 
forests, I should know at any time in what compan- 
ionship of trees I was by recognition of their familiar 
spirit. Only the Jeffrey variety of P, ponderosa is 
somewhat of an uncertain quantity, the wanderer of 
the family, making erratic appearances, sometimes 
high up on the upper margin of the firs, and again 
picketed out among the sun-bleached brush of the 
Mono plains. 

Coming after a climb of twenty-five hundred feet 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 155 

to the head of the fall, we stopped to view the leap 
of the water. The stream comes down from the 
rough plateau of its upper course in a series of steps, 
runs for two hundred yards through a chain of pools 
and reaches, and then is drawn smoothly over a 
rounded lip into the dark and well-like gorge. Fifty 
feet down it breaks upon a ledge and rises in a great 
arc or wheel of water. As the still early sun shone 
obliquely upon it, the wild wind that ascended from 
the tumult of that black chasm stripped off every 
moment the edge of the whirling rim of water in va- 
porous rainbow-flames of red, and blue, and orange. 
It was a solemn and beautiful sight, such a vision as 
might have found a place in the sublime narrative of 
a Hebrew prophet. I have never seen elsewhere any- 
thing of the kind, and the recollection of the hurrying 
flames playing upon the wheel of racing water comes 
over me now with a sense of having witnessed some 
deep parable, of which, though I saw the outward 
glory, I had been too gross to understand the meaning. 
While I still stood fascinated, I noticed a white 
butterfly come drifting over the gulf. It hung flutter- 
ing for a moment, then with a curious leisureliness 
circled down, following the falling water, until it 
passed out of my sight. In a few moments the litde 
insect reappeared, sailing up out of the tumult with 
a superb carelessness of flight. I watched the frail 
emblem of the soul with a feeling which I did not 
trouble to analyze, recognizing unconsciously, per- 
haps, some allegory of innocence and victory. 



156 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Our trail lay now over a rough plateau thinly tim- 
bered with pines whose foliage was of a black and 
serious cast. These wind-swept table-lands, open to 
every weather, have often a peculiarly stark and for- 
bidding appearance ; the blazing sun and withering 
winds seem to have bleached the very granite to a 
shivering complexion, and the shallow draws and 
contours, marked with dark timber, are drawn in 
lines like the creases in an aged face. At about seven 
thousand feet we began to enter snow, which as we 
climbed soon became continuous and left us only 
scanty blazes by which to follow the trail. Now our 
mild troubles began. The snow, though fairly deep, 
was well softened, and every few minutes one or 
other of us would go through, often up to the knees. 
Uphill travelling of this kind is very slow and tiring 
work, every step up and forward being discounted 
by several inches of slipping down and backward, 
and the strain is severe and continuous. However, 
the exertion put us in good state to withstand our 
constantly increasing wetness as we plunged more 
and more frequently through the thin crust which 
had frozen during the night and was now every mo- 
ment softening under the sun. 

One thing 4:hat we had not taken into account was 
the likelihood of having to ford the stream ; and as 
usual, the unexpected happened. The Chilnualna 
Creek is but a trifling affair as rivers go, and in later 
summer no doubt one could easily jump it. But as 
we stood on the snowy bank and cogitated our prob- 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 157 

lem, we faced a swirling stream of icy water, varying- 
from knee-deep to waist-deep, and of considerable 
strength of current. A cast up and down the bank 
for some distance convinced us that the trail had 
made no mistake as to the best place to ford the 
creek. As my companion put it with scholastic pre- 
cision, the problem was simplified by the elimination 
of the factor of place, leaving only the points of time 
and method to be solved. 

Here Longshanks had the advantage of me. His 
bodily configuration was arranged upon the useful 
principle of a pair of compasses, and, moreover, he 
was fresh from the Olympic "stunts" with which 
college students temper the academic severities. On 
the other side of the stream a large rounded boulder 
offered the chance of escaping a ducking to an ath- 
lete who might expect to reach it by vaulting. Long- 
shanks provided himself with a pine branch, straight 
and long, and pluckily made the essay. Sound mus- 
cle and judgment stood him in good stead. He 
sailed through the air ; his pole struck in a friendly 
crevice, and he landed neatly on the boulder and 
jumped down, exhorting me to follow without delay. 
I felt morally sure that I could not make the leap 
with the best vaulting-pole that ever grew ; but the 
stream had to be crossed somehow, so I plucked up 
heart, found a likely looking pole, and vaulted my 
best. My pole, through some concealed defect, broke 
in halves as my weight came on it, and I fell in mid- 
stream in four feet of water. Luckily I came down 



158 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

on my feet and was able by a strong effort to brace 
myself against the current, and so splashed ashore. 

After all, I was not much worse off, for I had been 
wet to the knees for an hour already. It was almost 
a satisfaction to be so completely soaked: I could 
now go ahead, careless of snow and water alike. 
When in the course of a mile or two we had to cross 
again, I simply marched through and squelched on 
my way, Longshanks enviously searching for nar- 
rower places while I assured him that the wide cross- 
ings were much the best, for the water had only 
reached to my equator. 

Mile after mile we ploughed along, perspiring 
heartily and occasionally glissading down snow-slopes. 
The blazes grew more and more casual, until we 
began to think we might have passed our lakes, 
hidden in some fold of the snowy landscape. Sud- 
denly we came upon the first of them, — Grouse Lake, 
a dark steel mirror of water, intensely still, almost an 
exact circle in shape, and ringed with banks of pure 
unsullied snow. From the further side came the sharp 
bark of a fox, and a troop of snow-birds flitted silently 
across and away. It was delightfully Arctic and soli- 
tary, and we gazed with admiration and with some- 
thing of the elation of discoverers. At least it w^as 
certain that the identical beauty that lay under our 
eyes had not been seen by any other, for we were the 
first to travel the trail since the winter snows (which 
usually fall on the Sierra at this altitude by mid- 
October) had shut the lonely lakelet up to its eight 
months' solitude. 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 159 

It was well past midday, and eight hours since we 
had had breakfast, so here we decided to eat our 
meal. Longshanks ate his in a fisherman's hurry, for 
he was itching to cast his flies on that untried water. 
My own first necessity was to forage for firewood and 
to pray that my block of matches, which I had stuck 
in my hat-band to dry, might fulfil their office. As 
one after another of them gave up the ghost with 
only a fizz and an evil smell, though I tried every 
variety of friction, from the drawling scratch of the 
experienced cowboy to the vicious jerk of the ten- 
derfoot, my opinion of the inventor of that curious 
survival, the California block-match, sank very low. 

At last a fortunate twist brought success, and I 
soon had a royal fire blazing. Then, peeling, I hung 
my sodden clothes on the brush within range of the 
generous heat, and proceeded with my own lunch, 
wondering the while how many centuries might have 
elapsed since last a gentleman had dined there ** in 
the buff," and surrounded by snow. My clothes 
steamed away industriously, but I had time to smoke 
a pipe before they were reasonably dry. I could see 
Longshanks working his way round the lake, casting 
assiduously but apparently without success ; and by 
the time I was dressed he rejoined me, fishless in- 
deed, but excited with the vision of an incomparable 
trout that he had seen swim out from under a sub- 
merged log, leaving, so he declared, a wake like a 
Mississippi steamer. 

We knew that two other lakes lay a short distance 



i6o YOSEMITE TRAILS 

to the west, and struck across country to find them, 
over snow that was deeper and firmer. A mile 
brought us to Crescent Lake, which we found to be 
a larger sheet of water, of irregular shape, still partly- 
covered with melting ice. At the northern end of the 
lake we came upon a forlorn little cabin, half buried 
in a snow-drift. Entering, we stood upon a floor of 
clear ice : the melting of the snow had flooded the 
house, and the hard packed earth floor had held the 
water, which had frozen solid. Bones of deer and of 
other game were littered about the room, one end of 
which was cumbered with the wreck of a huge chim- 
ney of rock. I had heard of the place : it was once 
the summer home of Jim Duncan, a man whose fame 
as a hunter still lingers in the memory of old Sierra 
back-woodsmen. 

The exploits of Jim Duncan, if they ever come to 
be written, will make a stirring tale. It is known that 
he kept a diary of his hunting-trips, but I learned 
from his sister that when questioned about it during 
his last illness, he denied its existence, and it is sup- 
posed that he had destroyed it. Mr. Galen Clark, ^ 
now of Yosemite but anciently of Clark's Station (the 
present Wawona), who was intimate with him, tells 
me that Duncan at one time intended publishing this 

^ Since this was written Mr. Clark has passed away, high in the 
regard of all who knew him, and close upon the completion of his 
ninety-sixth year. His body lies in the little Yosemite cemetery, and 
in the Sequoia-shaded grave which, after the tranquil fashion of those 
Biblical patriarchs whom in simplicity of spirit he resembled, he had 
prepared for himself years ago. 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY i6i 

diary, and with that view put it into the hands of 
some acquaintance of his to edit and put in form for 
the publisher. For some reason, which can hardly 
have been that the subject-matter proved to be not 
of sufficient interest, the editor-elect failed to fulfil his 
office, and Mr. Clark supposes that Duncan, under 
the influence of his disappointment, may have de- 
stroyed his manuscript. 

The few facts regarding him which I have been 
able to gather from his old companions in these 
mountains are to the following effect : About the 
year 1857 Duncan came up into the Sierra from 
Visalia. It is likely that he was one of the many un- 
successful gold-hunters who about that time were 
left stranded by the retiring wave of the gold excite- 
ment all up and down the foothill creeks and cafions 
of the Sierra Nevada. His native state of Michi- 
gan contributed her full quota of these defeated Ar- 
gonauts. Duncan, for his part, forsaking the quest 
of gold had declined upon pork, and in the year 
named was roaming with a band of hogs among the 
virgin pastures of the lower Sierra, after the manner 
of those Newtys of Pike whom Clarence King has 
immortalized in his delightful pages. 

The course of his wanderings brought him to the 
green meadows of Wawona (as now called), and here 
his career as a bear -hunter began with a chance 
encounter. Walking up one day from the meadows, 
where he was camped, in the direction of the grove 
of Sequoias (which had that same year been dis- 



i62 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

covered by Mr. Clark), Duncan met his first bear. He 
was carrying a combined rifle and shotgun, but he 
had at that time such a high estimation of the Cali- 
fornia grizzly that he forbore to fire. A few days 
later he had another encounter, this time at close 
range. Hurriedly firing a heavy charge of buckshot 
at the redoubtable foe he turned and ran for dear life 
without waiting to ascertain the result of his shot. On 
the third occasion he killed his game; and as time 
went on, and he and Bruin had frequent misunder- 
standings regarding pork, he began to match him- 
self against his enemy with more confidence. 

Those were the golden days of hunting in the Far 
West, and bears were incredibly plentiful. In one day 
of his early career Duncan killed five bears, a father, 
mother, and three well-grown cubs ; and from that 
time he lost all fear, and settled into his stride as 
a hunter with a special mission for bear. As years 
passed, and notches multiplied on the stock of his old 
muzzle-loader, he set himself the task of an even hun- 
dred, or century, of bears. But it was not to be : he 
died some ten years ago without completing his task, 
but with an authentic record of between eighty and 
ninety bears to his credit. It may be that chagrin at 
his failure to reach the goal he had set himself was 
the cause of his destroying the diary to which I have 
referred. 

Mild tourists to the Yosemite, where now a degen- 
erate race of bears dwell under the protection of 
the incomprehensible laws which have banished their 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 163 

mutton, may denounce the killing of nearly a hun- 
dred bears by one man as slaughter. But in Duncan's 
time the boot was on the other leg ; and as Long- 
shanks and I stood and looked at his little cabin in 
this desolate and lonely spot, we paid sincere homage 
to the spirit of the departed pioneer. 

As it was impossible to cast a line beyond the ring 
of half-submerged ice that encircled the lake, Long- 
shanks gave up all idea of fishing ; and the afternoon 
being well advanced we were fain also to abandon 
our intention of seeing Johnson Lake, and take the 
trail homeward. I was by this time comfortably warm 
and dry, and the thought of having to wade the stream 
again on our way back was highly provoking. In the 
hope that we might evade it we left the trail and made 
a wide cast to the north, which we figured should 
bring us in somewhere near the head of the fall. 
Without a compass or knowledge of the ground such 
calculations are open to a host of mischances. For 
one thing, it is not easy to estimate the arc of a circle 
in covering rough country, and for another, unex- 
pected obstacles may make it impossible to keep even 
reasonably near to the proposed line of travel. 

Progress was slow, for the snow was softer than it 
had been in the morning ; but we floundered along, 
mile on mile, up and down, tobogganing helter-skel- 
ter down every practicable slope. In the exhilarating 
air even the uphill work was a sort of play. When- 
ever we heard the roar of the river sounding near us 
we took another cast, and flattered ourselves that we 



i64 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

were outflanking the enemy. But as the hours and the 
miles passed it began to be a question how long this 
was to go on. Nature is hard to beat at the game of 
patience. Then we found ourselves facing the river 
once more. It was getting dusk and we decided to 
cross, neck or nothing; so it looked as if I, at any 
rate, was in for another bath of snow-water. Pros- 
pecting up and down the bank for the best place to 
tackle the annoying job, we espied a dead tree that 
had fallen at a steep slant partly across the stream, 
the further end overhanging a broken stump that 
leaned from the other side. Blessing our luck we 
swarmed up, and with a ten-foot drop landed on the 
stump and slid down on the other side. 

The rest was plain sailing, for we were headed in 
the right direction and began to leave the snow be- 
hind as we came to lower levels. The way lay then 
over a wide expanse of granite, almost treeless, and 
curving in overlapping layers into seams and folds, 
along which ran arrowy brooks of water from the 
snows we had left The sun had set behind rifted 
clouds, but on our left the high ridge of Buena Vista 
Peak suddenly flushed to almost crimson, culminating 
and sinking to ashy gray in a breath, as with a sigh 
of ineffable beauty. 

We reached the head of the falls as the light was 
almost gone, and after a few minutes' rest plunged 
down the well-marked trail, swinging along at five 
miles an hour, sore of foot but with spirits unflagged. 
By nine o'clock we made the Wawona road, and 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 165 

half an hour later were at headquarters. We had been 
out fifteen hours, and had covered about twenty-five 
miles of pretty rough country, mainly over soft snow, 
and with a rise of forty-five hundred feet in altitude. 
Longshanks successfully dodged the enquiries of 
rival fishermen, and we turned in after an impressive 
supper, desperately tired but satisfied exceedingly. 

Wawona Meadows themselves might be called the 
Sleepy Hollow of the West. It is the most peaceful 
place that I know in America, and comes near being 
the most idyllic spot I have seen anywhere (which 
is a considerable admission for an Englishman to 
make). Here is an unbroken meadow, green as 
heaven, a mile long, waving knee-high with all de- 
licious grasses and threaded with brooklets of crystal 
water. It is surrounded with a rail-fence that rambles 
in and out and round about and hither and thither 
in that sauntering way that makes a rail-fence such 
a companionable thing, nearly as good as a hedge. 
Beyond the fence the forest rises on all sides, surging 
gloriously up, ridge above ridge, a most friendly and 
comfortable sight. 

The meadows lie east and west. To the east stands 
Mount Raymond, and to the west Signal Mountain 
(known also as Devil's Peak), the culminating point 
of the Chowchillas. The South Fork of the Merced 
flows along the northern edge, breathing easier after 
its boisterous rush through the cafion ; and beyond 
it the glistening mass of Bald Mountain shows like 
an elephant's forehead to centre the gaze. On the 



i66 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

south lies a particularly admirable belt of forest, 
flowery and ferny to a degree, through which the 
short trail climbs up to the Sequoia groves. Yellow 
pines, sugar pines, firs, oaks, and cedars stand ranked 
in emulous perfection, with a first-storey undergrowth 
of ceanothus, dogwood, wild-rose, hazel, and goose- 
berry, and a ground-floor tangle of lilies white, lilies 
red, lilies grave, lilies gay, dwarf ceanothus with deli- 
cious little blossoms of sapphire blue, chamcebatia 
the blessed, and dozens more. 

In the Wawona Meadows one may experience what 
used to be called, in a pretty old English phrase, 
"a charm of birds." Embroidered upon the tenor 
voice of the pines, the deeper whisper of the oaks, 
and the talking rustle of ferns and grasses are the 
meadow-lark's bubbling cascade, the wild cry of the 
flicker, and innumerable chucklings, carollings,' and 
cacklings from songsters of greater or less degree. 
Platoons of blackbirds wheel about in rhythmic 
manoeuvres, dropping now and then by one impulse 
out of sight, as if the ground had opened to receive 
them. Swallows dip and dive over the lake of her- 
bage, breasting the green billows like swimmers, and 
exploiting all manner of flavorable insects. All the 
earth's children, animal and vegetable alike, are ram- 
pantly at work or play. Starry hosts of mimulus 
twinkle, wild strawberries hide and tantalize, butter- 
cups and wild-roses perform their little alchemies of 
remembrance ; gay young dandelions flash their gold 
like prodigals, and hoary old dandelions (** all flaxen 



THE WAWONA COUNTRY 167 

was his poll") stand pondering on the brevity of 
life. And ever the shining waves of the grass go by 
and away, to die in soundless surf on the forest edge. 
The soft wind blows you little cool kisses, and when 
for a moment it dies away, the pine incense rises hot 
and spicy, with almost a spirituous pungency. 

For an hour or so at midday silence reigns. The 
birds retire to shady siestas: everything drowses, 
except the tireless wind and the grass, and even they 
move sleepily. Then some one, somewhere, gives the 
word, "Come on!" — and in a moment the world 
moves on again, whistling and playing pranks like a 
schoolboy. Trailside company is distractingly plen- 
tiful : there are pipings and rustlings overhead, ex- 
cited scamperings underfoot, underground soliloquies 
of amphibious brooks, indecisions of butterflies, im- 
minent perils of pendent bees, trepidations of liz- 
ards, absurdities of inverted beetles, perturbations of 
ants, exasperations of gnats with assassinations of the 
same ; and everywhere green laughter of leaf and 
grey reverie of lichen. 

The high land-cliff of Wawona Point rises on the 
northern boundary of the upper grove of the Wa- 
wona Sequoias. From it one looks down nearly 
three thousand feet into the gulf of forest, in the 
midst of which the meadows lie like a sheltered lake. 
I found it especially a noble station from which to 
watch the sunrise. Only two miles to the east rises 
Mount Raymond, and his peak is the first to kindle. 
For a few moments the illumination seems to be 



i68 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

stationary ; then it spreads slowly down, turning the 
blue shaded snow-fields to glistering white. Then it 
catches and goldens the spiry tips of the fir-forest, 
and they seem to tremble with delight, striving up 
and thrilling with the fervor of life. 

As the radiance comes flooding down, the needles 
of a sugar pine on the ridge between me and the 
sunrise flash and shimmer with white lances of light, 
and the great Sequoias smile out, one by one, with 
solemn, age-old joy. Wawona lies still sunk in a 
bowl of purple shadow, but the sun's brush lays wash 
below wash of gold on the mountain-side. Next the 
light catches the old white stump that stands on the 
point ; then it suddenly streams through the gorge 
below him, and paints a long triangle of yellow that 
pushes down and down, reaching and grasping, until 
in a few moments it comes to the edge of the mead- 
ows. The quiet is intense and unbroken but for the 
voice of the river, which throbs up from the void 
below and seems to echo back and reverberate from 
the very sky. 

To south and west the level plain of the San Joa- 
quin lies in long streaks of fawn and blue; blue 
where every slight inequality of ground spreads an 
island of shadow behind it. Farmers wake, horses 
stamp and rattle for their morning hay, roosters 
shout their insane defiances to creation, car -bells 
jangle, newsboys wrangle, bacon sizzles in kitchen 
and camp, and I go down to breakfast. 



CHAPTER XI 

RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 

THE law of Nature which is expressed in that 
overworked phrase, **the survival of the fit- 
test," has had a complete, and from the point of 
view of the survivors themselves (who are naturally 
the best judges) a highly satisfactory, demonstration 
in the quick declension of the old Mexican popula- 
tion of California before the present lords of the 
Golden State. The transaction took place with the 
automatic certainty of all such natural processes, but 
also with a rapidity which entitles it to the attention 
due to a phenomenon. It was a summary clearing 
of the stage for the quick action of the Golden Drama. 
Nature needs no apologist for her writs of ejection, 
and her outgoing tenants have no recourse or ap- 
peal. In this case they attempted none, but, gener- 
ally speaking, sank away as quietly as the streams 
that dwindle and seep out of sight under the ener- 
getic Calif ornian sun. ** The hour had struck, and 
they must go." And go they did, rich and poor, 
gentle and simple alike, bowing with what grace 
they might to 

'* The good old rule, the simple plan, 
That they should take who have the power 
And they should keep who can.** 



I70 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

But I, for one, have always felt the injustice of the 
contempt in which the dispossessed Mexicans have 
been held by their heirs-at-law. No doubt, nothing 
succeeds like success, and nothing fails like failure ; 
but then, the point of view governs all, and one can 
always conceive an aspect from which the conquered 
might contemn the conquerors. For myself, I own 
to a sympathetic regard for "the greasers," whom, in 
general, I have found singularly friendly and respon- 
sive ; — a virtue which, it seems to me, is entitled to 
a high rating under the circumstances. 

Scattered up and down the multitudinous cafions 
of the foothills where the Sierra Nevada sweeps out 
in fringes of winter green or summer ochre upon 
the great central valley of California, an unsuspected 
number of Mexicans have found congenial homes. 
As miners, shepherds, bee-men, or nondescripts they 
live in these sequestered places, performing at least as 
well as the rest of us the Symphony of the Quiet Life, 
which consists in such matters as ** living content with 
small means, talking gently, acting frankly, bearing 
all cheerfully, doing all bravely, awaiting occasions, 
hurrying never.'* 

Troops of children, often lovely as young arch- 
angels, whose dark eyes and shining tresses have 
often disquieted my tough bachelor heart with long- 
ing, play around these humble doors. Mandolins 
tinkle through long evenings after easy days, and the 
smoke of everlasting cigarettes mingles with low- 
toned laughter and murmured conversation in the 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 171 

most musical of languages. Standing outside the 
hurly-burly, these philosophical non-combatants find 
leisure for the quiet pleasures and family employ- 
ments and courtesies which we deny ourselves, or 
think we are denied. They have not travelled so far 
from Eden as we have. Can we be sure that we who 
have come farther have not fared worse ? 

When the hottest part of the California summer day 
arrives, the boasted energy of the Anglo-Saxon sinks 
to zero. The sun-baked rocks and boulders shed out 
a violent, blistering heat ; the white sands reflect the 
light like a mirror ; the breeze grows listless, flutters, 
and dies away ; the traveller grows listless too, and 
his afifairs become less important than the necessity 
of turning aside for an hour's siesta in the shade. 

That, at least, was my conclusion as midday ap- 
proached, when a few years ago the course of my 
affairs took me a day's journey into one of the less 
frequented cations of the Sierra foothills, — the San 
Timoteo. As I wished to return the same night, I had 
started early from the little town in the valley, and 
had ridden a good many miles before the heat of the 
day came on. My horse, moreover, needed water ; 
so when my eyes, following a narrow track that led 
off to the right of the trail, fell upon a plank thrown 
over a gully which by the debris it contained gave 
notice of the proximity of a house or camp, I at once 
turned him into the little side-trail. Riding down into 
the gully and up the opposite side, I saw, fifty yards 



172 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

farther on, a dwelling. It was the reg-ulation ** lone *' 
miner's cabin, — an object which under all its vari- 
ations constitutes a type ; just as, under all his diver- 
sities, does the **lone" miner himself. It stood, or 
rather stooped, hunched together with that air of pre- 
mature age which in three months settles upon struc- 
tures whose builders have attached more importance 
to haste and economy than to T-squares and sound 
workmanship. A wall of rock of considerable height 
rose near behind the house, forming a buttress or spur 
of the main cafion wall. A few fair-sized live-oaks and 
cottonwoods inhabited the little bench of land, an 
acre or two in extent, which, naturally clear of brush, 
offered itself as a desirable building site. 

On a rough shelf attached to the house was a batea^ 
— the wooden pan or dish used by Mexican placer- 
miners in the operation of " washing out" by hand. 
A pick, an axe, and other such articles lay near by ; 
a mattress was spread upon the ground in the shade 
of a tree ; and if I needed other evidence of the own- 
er's presence, the sound of music proceeding from the 
half-open door, and smoke issuing from the chimney, 
undoubtedly afforded it. Both the air played and the 
instrument furnishing the music were familiar. The 
air was La Paloma, b. composition as distinctive of 
Mexico as Suwanee River is of this country, or The 
Blue Bells of Scotland of the land of Burns. The 
instrument I recognized as one which was known 
to me in my youthful musical enthusiasms as the 
mouth-organ, but is now, I believe, more ambitiously 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 173 

known as the harmonicon. I listened until the end of 
the tune, and was then about to ride up to the door 
when I heard a boy's voice speaking rapidly in Span- 
ish, answered by a man in the same language ; and 
a moment later the air was begun again by two per- 
formers together. I waited again until the verse was 
completed, and then dismounting walked up to the 
house. The musicians, after a short colloquy, were 
beginning still another performance of the same air, 
but ceased at my knock, and an old Mexican pre- 
sented himself. I use the term old in the qualified 
sense in which, it seems to me, it applies to all Mexi- 
cans of over forty-five years' age ; but he was strongly 
built, and his face was remarkably intelligent and 
pleasing, though wearing that expression of half mel- 
ancholy passivity which seems to be a mark of his 
race. 

I explained that I had expected to find water in 
the caiion but had failed to do so, and requested per- 
mission to water my horse at his spring. 

"Surely, senor," and with grave politeness he led 
the way behind the house, and pointed out a small 
covered well. 

"At your service ; it will be three miles before you 
reach water, seiior.'* 

" You have lived here long ? " I asked, for the sake 
of conversation. 

"Yes, sefior, it is five years since we came from 
Guadalajara. Do you know Guadalajara? It is a 
beautiful city, like the fine American cities, sefior.'* 



174 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Attracted by his friendly communicativeness, I re- 
marked upon the music I had heard and asked whether 
he had brought his family from Mexico with him. 

** Yes, seiior; but there is but one boy." 

" Then your wife is dead ? " I ventured to ask. 

" Yes, seiior, in Guadalajara." 

" Gracias," he continued, in reply to my expression 
of sympathy ; " but it is God's will, seiior ; it is not 
good to complain ; and I have the boy, and we are 
very happy. He is not strong, but he is very good. 
And clever, senor ! You should hear him play." 

" Yes," I replied, " I heard him play." 

"Ah! but that is nothing; he was but playing 
then to teach me to play, too. It will be fine music, 
seiior, when I can play like he can." 

We had been walking back toward the trail as we 
talked, and I now stood ready to mount and continue 
my journey, having given up the idea of resting there, 
fearing I should be an intruder. 

*' The sun is still hot, and there is little shade, 
sefior," said my friendly Mexican. " Perhaps you 
would like to rest at the house ? " 

I willingly assented, and he led the way, first slip- 
ping the bridle from my horse and tying him in the 
shade of a tree. 

On entering the house I saw a boy of perhaps 
fourteen years of age, lying on a roughly made cot. 
A glance showed that he was deformed, and a pair of 
home-made crutches in a corner stood mute witnesses 
to the fact. But his face was remarkably beautiful, the 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 175 

eyes, in particular, very animated and eloquent ; and 
his smile the most radiant and affecting that I ever 
beheld. It seemed to take you at once into his con- 
fidence ; to love you as if by nature ; almost to kiss 
you, in its pure, spontaneous affection. It thrilled me, 
and thrills me now when I think of it. I can call it 
nothing but heavenly. 

" The caballero will rest, Rafael," said his father. 

"Si, seiior," and the boy looked at me with that 
sweet, bright smile. 

I love children. One does not usually think of a boy 
of fourteen as a child, in that sense ; but Rafael in his 
weakness was a child, and a very appealing, respon- 
sive child ; and Rafael's smile was an invitation to 
love him as a child. I sat down on a low box beside 
him and took one of his hands in mine. In the other 
hand he held his little instrument, playing it softly, 
under his breath ; and whenever his eyes met mine 
or his father's it was always with the heavenly smile. 

** Play, Rafaelito," said his father ; ** the caballero 
does not know how you can play.'^ 

The boy drew his hand from mine, and after a few 
preliminary chords launched into the most original 
and brilliant variations on the same air which I had 
heard him play before. It was astonishing to see him, 
and would have been almost weird but for the extraor- 
dinary beauty of his expression. He lay, rather than 
sat, facing the little window, which was somewhat 
high in the wall on the same side as the door, and 
looked toward the south. The sun shone clearly in 



176 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

upon the lad, broken by the blurred, flickering shad- 
ows cast by the slow-moving leaves of a Cottonwood. 
His eyes were fixed upon the sky, and shone with 
the steady, calm radiance of the evening star ; while 
in strange contrast his sunken chest rose and fell as 
he played, with the painful agitation of a woman's 
breast when she sobs. The boy was rapt, ecstatic. 
The little room, with its humble household contriv- 
ances, took on the enchantment, and glowed with 
the spirit of the pulsating music. Jose, the father, 
crouched gazing at the floor in a dream, his elbows 
on his knees, his hands hanging down and twitching, 
one foot beating time. Such passion, such freedom, 
were in the boy's playing, — it was not a child playing 
a toy ; it was a Paganini, but a heavenl)^ Paganini. 

Suddenly he ceased. Jose rose and came forward, 
a tremulous smile on his grave face. " Can he not 
play, seiior, as I said, my Rafaelito?" 

" It is marvellous," I said. "But it is not good that 
you play too much, Rafael ; you are not strong, and 
it is bad for you." 

" Oh no, sefior," he said ; " I must play. I love to 
play; it is my life." And he smiled his heavenly 
smile, his eyes glowing. 

" It is true," said Jose. " He plays always, and it 
is not well that I stop him. You see, sefior, there is 
nothing else he can do, and one must do something : 
one dies." 

He took the water -pail and moved towards the 
door. I followed, and when we were outside I en- 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 177 

quired how the boy had learned to play so wonder- 
fully. 

" Of himself, seiior," Jose replied. " He was hurt by 
the train when we came from Mexico ; he fell from 
the step, and hurt his back on the iron. Then he was 
in the hospital at Los Angeles nearly three months, 
but they could not cure him. But they gave him the 
armonico, to amuse him ; yes, they were kind, but 
they could not cure him ; it was not God's will. And 
when they let him go we came here ; and we are 
happy. The claim, sefior ? no, it is not much, but it 
gives always enough. At first, he would come always 
with me where I work ; it is on the hill that the claim 
is. But it is a year now that he is not so well, and he 
stays at the house, and plays and plays. That is how 
he plays so well. It is his life, yes, truly, his life, seiior. 
And then he said I must play, too ; and I try to play, 
but I am not young like him, and I cannot learn fast. 
But he is patient, and teaches me. And when it is 
moonlight we sit outside the house, and we play and 
play. He loves greatly the moonlight. And I tell him 
of Guadalajara, and the music there, and the fine 
churches, and he plays always ; and we are very 
happy, sefior." 

He stopped speaking, and then, with a smile that 
was a reflection of the boy's, said again, — 

" He is an angel, my Rafaelito ; and we are very 
happy, seiior." 

It was necessary for me to resume my journey, 
and I returned alone to the house, Jose being occu- 



178 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

pied for a moment outside, to wish the boy good- 
bye. 

" Gracias, senor," he said, with his heavenly smile, 
as I again praised his playing ; ** and my father plays 
also ; I have taught him, and already he plays well. 
Do you play, sefior?" 

I had to acknowledge that I had no accomplish- 
ment in that direction. 

** It is a pity ; it is fine to play ; and father says so, 
too. Do you know, sefior, I can always hear it, yes, 
when I am asleep, sometimes. I can hear it running 
and running like the water. And then when I wake I 
play it so, and it is another way, a new way, sefior.'* 

After a pause he went on, — 

" And it is such good company for one. That is 
why I made my father learn ; and then, if I am not 
here, — you see I am not strong, sefior, — then he will 
play, and it will be as if we played together ; is it not 
so?'' 

** Yes," I answered ; *' almost as if you played to- 
gether. Good-bye, Rafael ; but I shall come and see 
you again, and you will play again to me." 

" Yes, sefior ; adios, sefior." And he smiled his 
smile that was like a kiss. 

I had finished my business and was riding back 
down the caiion in the cool peace of the evening. 
As the cold mountain breeze blew past me, it seemed 
a different world from that of the morning, with its 
throbbing heat and garish light. La Paloma still 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 179 

rang in my brain ; and as the light faded I ceased to 
urge my horse, and fell into a reverie in which I 
seemed to see again the face of Rafael, luminous and 
smiling, or gazing up at the sky with his rapt look 
as he played and played. The tall evening-prim- 
roses that grew beside the trail were like the boy in 
their pale, bright serenity ; and with a feeling of ten- 
derness I leaned down and touched one here and 
there, as though it were he himself. The moon rose 
above the caiion wall, and poured its still radiance 
over the scene. I remembered that Jose had said 
that Rafael often played in the moonlight, and as I 
came near the place where the little trail led to the 
house I found myself listening quite eagerly. I had 
no intention of staying, in any case, but I had a 
strong desire to see the boy again, and thought I 
would quietly approach the house if I heard any 
sound, but without their knowledge, so that I could 
withdraw unseen. At a turn of the cafion the music 
suddenly reached me. They were playing together, 
as I had heard them in the morning: Rafael was 
teaching his father. I dismounted and tied my horse 
to a bush, and quietly walked to where I could 
plainly see without being seen. The moon now shone 
full upon the little opening, and its idyll of love and 
simplicity. The mattress had been drawn out from 
under the tree where I had seen it into the moon- 
light, and on it lay Jose and Rafael, side by side, 
playing. 

*' Did I play well, Rafaelito mio?" 



i8o YOSEMITE TRAILS 

" It is excellent, yes, excelentisimo!^ answered Ra- 
faelito of the Heavenly Smile. 

Although it had seemed likely that I should find 
it necessary soon to repeat my journey into the San 
Timoteo, two years elapsed before I was again in the 
cafion. I was far from having forgotten old Jose and 
the boy. On my way up I was pressed for time, and 
did not call at the house, but contented myself with 
riding near enough to see that it appeared to be still 
inhabited, and determining to stop there on my re- 
turn at night. I recalled vividly the vision that my 
memory had preserved (as it always will), of the 
father and son playing together in the moonlight ; 
and I hoped that I might repeat an experience that 
was so sacred in its touching simplicity. Perhaps I 
was unduly sentimental, but so it seemed to me. 

There was a half moon that night, and I rode 
quickly down the cafion, enjoying the scents that 
filled the air from sage, laurel, and the hundred and 
one aromatic herbs and shrubs of the California brush. 
I passed again the tall evening - primroses, stand- 
ing in silent beauty like spellbound fairy princesses, 
and their pale tranquillity again reminded me of 
Rafael. It was still early when I came to the little 
trail, and I had no doubt of finding my friends either 
in the house or, perhaps, playing in the moonlight 
as I had last seen them. But when I came near the 
house there was no sound of talking or playing, and 
I saw no light, though the door stood open. I tied 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE i8i 

my horse, and approaching, knocked, and called 
" Jose I Rafael I " There was no answer, and with 
a feeling of disappointment I struck a match and 
stepped within. Evidently the house was inhabited, 
and by the same owner, for there was but little 
change in the appearance of the room ; but when I 
looked for the boy's bed, and his crutches, I could 
not see them. Something of a presentiment came 
over me ; many things may happen in two years, 
and the boy had been a cripple. Going outside, I 
was upon the point of calling the father's name 
again, when I thought I heard, faintly and at a dis- 
tance, the well-remembered sound of the playing. 
Yes, I heard it unmistakably ; it came from beyond 
the house, intermittently, as the breeze brought it. 
Following it I soon found that I was on a well-marked 
path that led up a little side-caiion, of which the 
gully that one had to cross in reaching the house 
from the road was a continuation. The path I was 
on led, no doubt, to Jose's placer- claim ; but what 
could be the reason of his being there at night, and 
where was the boy ? 

Following the path, which was steep and rocky, I 
came nearer and nearer to the music : it was again La 
Paloma, Then the trail emerged on a little opening, 
which was, in fact, the top of the spur of rock which 
rose behind the house. At a little distance I saw some 
one sitting, playing : it was Jose. He had not seen me, 
nor heard my approach. When I called his name 
he ceased playing, and came slowly toward me. The 



i82 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

moonlight was on his grave, dark face ; he did not at 
first recognize me. 

** Jose," I said, " you remember me ? " 

I turned my face to the light. 

** Yes, sefior," he said, " now I know you ; and you 
are welcome. I fear it was hard for you to find me." 

"No," I replied, "I heard you play. You played 
when I was here before." 

"Yes, I remember, sefior," said Jose. 

"And the boy, Rafaelito, who played so beau- 
tifully," I said : " I have not forgotten, Jose. Where 
is he?" 

"Dead, senor"; he spoke quietly. "You would 
like to see the place ? It is here, close by, sefior." 

He led the way, talking simply as we walked. 

" We were very happy ; yes, that is it, perhaps we 
were too happy, sefior, do you not think so? One 
must have trouble, and the boy was not strong." 

He stopped at the spot where I had seen him sit- 
ting. There was a little enclosure, the shape of a 
grave, not to be noticed at a little distance, marked 
out with roughly broken pieces of quartz. At one 
end a cross was marked upon the ground in the same 
way ; and in the centre of the enclosure there was a 
small, shallow, wooden box, about a foot square, such 
as some articles of food are packed in ; but a piece 
of glass formed the top, which was held in place by 
four pebbles of white quartz. Something glittered like 
metal under the glass ; it was the beloved armojiico, 
and Rafaelito of the Heavenly Smile lay beneath. 



RAFAELITO: AN INTERLUDE 183 

"When I work, — it is over there that I work, 
senor, quite near, — I can look and see the place. And 
always I come here in the evenings, and then I play. 
He made me learn ; he was very patient, my Rafaelito. 
And was it not fortunate that I learned, senor ? it is 
as though we played together." 

" — Yes, it is hard ; but it is God's will, and it is 
not good to complain. Vaya con Dios, senor ^^ 



PART II 

THE HIGH SIERRA 



'* Let the noon find thee by other lakes, and the 
night overtake thee everywhere at home." 

Thoreau. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE HIGH SIERRA: THE YOSEMITE VALLEY TO 
THE HETCH-HETCHY 

ON a hot, still morning of middle summer I left 
the Yosemite Valley for a month's expedition 
into the High Sierra. The region I expected to travel 
would be entirely new to me, so it was advisable to 
take a guide ; and as there would be no opportunity 
for re-furnishing with provisions until I reached Mono 
Lake, on the eastern side of the mountains, it was 
necessary to take enough pack-animals to carry sup- 
plies for two or three weeks. 

The problems of guide and pack-train solved them- 
selves very satisfactorily, and in this manner : I was 
returning one day to camp, after compassing, at the 
cost of a broken rod, the overthrow of an experienced 
trout who had long defied me in a reach of the river 
a mile or so below the village. Near the place where 
we settled our account I came upon a man of a cheer- 
ful and self-helping aspect, who was camped in a 
little meadow that ran to the river-bank. In conver- 
sation this proved to be one Bodie, who had been 
recommended to me as a good man and a capable 
guide ; and before we parted a " deal " had been 
arranged whereby he and five animals were placed at 
my disposal for the month of July. 



i88 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Mr. Field, whom I already knew as a pleasant com- 
rade and a thorough photographer, whose excellent 
pictures illustrate these pages, was also to accompany 
the expedition, completing a triangular (or perhaps it 
would be fairer to say an octagonal) party. 

It was the 3d of July when Field and I left the 
valley. The village had broken out in a rash of flags 
and bunting. Fireworks and a dance were billed to 
wind up the exercises of the Fourth, and I confess I 
felt no regret in turning my back upon these festive 
incongruities. 

We drove out on the Big Oak Flat road, bound for 
Crocker's Station, where Bo die awaited us with the 
animals. This is the road which, from the southern side 
of the valley, one sees traced like a white ribbon on 
the northern cafion wall. I found it on the whole dis- 
appointing in the views it offers ; but the Bridal Veil 
Fall was often in sight, and interesting glimpses were 
opened up of the wide scoop down which the Bridal 
Veil Creek flows to its famous plunge : while the re- 
markable fractures of the southern wall of the Merced 
Cafion would compel the attention of the least geo- 
logical of men. From this road also El Capitan shows 
more magnificently than from any other point of view, 
fronting the west with a vast, door-like cliff that is truly 
imposing in its unbroken verticality. But many of 
the most wonderful features of the valley are not 
within the view from this side, while from the spot 
that has been ambitiously named New Inspiration 
Point, El Capitan itself is completely hidden and 




EL CAPITAN FROM THE BIG OAK FLAT ROAD 



THE HIGH SIERRA 189 

only a small segment of the Half -Dome is in 

sight. 

Making up, however, for all deficiencies, an unusual 
haze that day filled the valley with an atmosphere 
like a vapor of opals, and steeped the landscape in 
a dreamy beauty, ineffably airy and spiritual. It was 
like one of those enchanted valleys of our childhood, 
populated by friendly fairies, gigantic genii, and com- 
panionable birds and beasts, where gallant lovers in 
peach-colored velvet were constantly occupied in res- 
cuing princesses in silver and sky-blue. 

The summer, moreover, was at its climax of flowers. 
Every forest opening glinted with cyclamens, colum- 
bines, and wall-flowers, these last of a peculiar sultry 
yellow like compressed sunshine. As we rose, the 
timber changed from yellow pine to spruce, from 
spruce to sugar pine, then to fir, and lastly to tama- 
rack. At Tamarack Flat we stopped for an hour to 
rest the team, fagged with a climb of twenty-five hun- 
dred feet, and then, after making another rise to Gin 
Flat (a natural culmination), began the long descent. 
The road passes through the Tuolumne grove of 
Sequoias. While we were paying our homage to some 
of the most notable trees, we encountered a tall back- 
woodsman who sat whittling and whistling beside 
the road. Your true backwoodsman savors of the for- 
est as a fisherman smells of the sea, and I was struck 
by the wood craftiness, so to speak, of this man's ap- 
pearance. He looked like a kind of faun, and his 
occupation of whittling seemed almost necessary and 



I90 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

symbolic. Long, lean, and shaggy, there was a fine 
air of wild instinct about him ; he seemed a part of 
the landscape ; and it was a shock to find him to be 
after all a prosaic and commercially minded creature, 
when, in reply to a remark upon the stateliness of the 
great trees that rose around us, he cast a calculating 
eye over the " General Lawton," and replied, "Don't 
know nothin' about that ; maybe they 's fine, maybe 
they ain't. That thar stick will cut up two hunnerd 
thousand foot of lumber, board measure. To my 
thinkin' it 's all dad-blasted foolishness that a feller 
cain't cut a stick o' timber like that. What 's trees, 
anyway? Ain't they lumber?" He spat viciously to 
right and left, throwing up little volcanoes of dust, 
and reiterated, **A dad-blasted foolishness, that's 
what it is : two hunnerd thousand foot, board mea- 
sure." For some reason, the fact of this iniquitous 
waste of lumber being estimated by board measure 
seemed to aggravate the matter intolerably, and he 
continued dad-blasting and spitting angrily until, 
when we parted, quite a range of small craters sur- 
rounded him. 

Running down a good road between walls of su- 
perb forest, we drew up by late afternoon at the little 
settlement of Crocker's, or, as it is given on the map, 
Sequoia. Without having ever seen, except from 
railway cars, a New England village, I thought I 
recognized the model of those quaint and sleepy 
hamlets which American poets and writers have cast 
into a type. A single street, or streetlet, of a hundred 



THE HIGH SIERRA 191 

yards all told, dawdled past the doors of half a dozen 
whitewashed cottages, and then suddenly wavered 
off into the forest. A "hotel," a miniature store, and 
an amusing post ofBce formed the business centre, 
and a few small dwellings and a barn comprised the 
suburbs. 

In this Arcadian spot Bodie awaited us, and thence 
convoyed us to his camp half a mile away. Here we 
found our animals assembled — a horse, two mules, 
a big jack and a small jenny — hard by a lost-look- 
ing house, the residence of an acquaintance of our 
guide's. The goodman was away, but his womenfolk 
did the honors, and a couple of choleric dogs, to- 
gether with a rifle that leaned against the house, 
represented him efficiently by proxy. 

When the hour of supper approached, Bodie, to 
give us a taste of his quality, notified us that we were 
to be regaled with hot bread, and produced a brand- 
new Dutch-oven which he was contributing on his 
own account to the equipment of the party. When 
the bread was ready and we drew around the gunny- 
sack board, he sprang further surprises upon us : first 
a bag of sugared " cookies," then a jar of pickles, 
and lastly one of jam. I have no doubt he had pro- 
vided these exotics with the kindly idea of mitigating 
for us the abruptness of the descent to camp rations ; 
but I could see that he felt that his own dignity was 
compromised by such trifling, and I observed that he 
made a point of always referring to them slightingly 
as " them little dinkies." 



192 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

This genteel repast over, Bodie repaired to the 
house and the society of the ladies, who, overlooking 
our presence, condescended to take the air on the 
door-step. It was easy to gather from the soprano 
laughter accompanying a bass monologue that our 
guide was something of a wag. We, for our part, lay 
at ease, smoking lazily and maturing our plans. 

A serene rose-cloudy sunset, with a placid white 
moon drifting in a sky of Turneresque blue, promised 
a truly glorious Fourth. All around stood thickly 
"the green steeples of the piney wood," closing us in 
with a horizon of restful undulations. At length the 
stars piercing the darkening indigo of the sky re- 
minded us that we were to be up at four, and turning 
into our blankets we were lulled asleep by the mur- 
muring stream of badinage that still flowed on, en- 
couraged by tributary rills of applause. 

There was no sign of movement about the house 
when at six o'clock next morning our cavalcade filed 
out upon the road, though a rear-guard skirmish be- 
tween the mules and the dogs plainly advertised our 
departure. As we passed through the village a with- 
ering sun was already bleaching the sagging bunting, 
but no sound of toy-cannon or fire-cracker broke the 
drowse of Sleepy Hollow. The character of Crocker's 
population does not belie the unemotional aspect of 
the place. 

I watched with curiosity, not unmixed with anxiety, 
for the first disclosures of the qualities of our animals. 
The horse and the mules were the property of Bodie, 



THE HIGH SIERRA 193 

and he had guaranteed their dispositions ; but he had 
hired the two burros for the trip, and I knew from 
severe experiences the surprises that are latent in 
these incomprehensible creatures. 

Almost before we were out of the village it became 
plain that the big jack combined the worst idiosyn- 
crasies of his species with the solitary virtue of 
enormous strength and great tonnage. A big-boned, 
knuckly beast with a lowering eye, I never knew him 
to abate for an instant the attitude of sullen hostility 
which he adopted at the outset. Not that any of us 
ever attempted to get into relations with him ; that eye 
forbade it. Bodie's feelings toward him fluctuated 
swiftly : at one moment he would extol his size and 
endurance, averring, truly enough, that he was the 
equal of any blamed mule in the mountains ; half a 
minute later he could be heard assailing him with 
violent reproaches and threatening to break every bone 
in his " dog- gone" carcass. To threats and praises alike 
Jack opposed the same detestable demeanor, and I 
seldom deprecated the sudden strappados which fell 
upon him, and which Bodie justified by explaining 
that **the surly son of a 'Pache riled him all up." 

For strength of will I never met the equal of this 
animal ; it was colossal, and pure adamant. From the 
first to the last day of the trip he steadfastly refused 
to keep the trail with the others. Defiantly he would 
turn off from the plainest path, his great parietals 
bulging with obstinacy ; and when a loud hail warned 
him that he was observed, he would rush off and 



194 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

ram himself savagely into the worst thicket or rock- 
pile he could find. By practice he had developed an 
abominable sagacity, and could judge to a nicety the 
space between trees or below branches that would 
ensure the maximum of damage to his load. Into 
these places he would charge, and stand shoving 
and straining with sullen fury, hoping to dislodge 
his pack ; and the only way to force him out was by 
hammering him steadfastly on the muzzle. Even 
under that application he would stand out, until, the 
cumulative effect becoming unbearable, he would 
bolt back to the trail, trembling with rage, and a hate- 
ful spectacle of concentrated vice. 

The jenny was entirely otherwise ; a confiding lit- 
tle creature, as willing and placable as the jack was 
ugly and difficult ; in Bodie's phrase, " a kind litde 
divvle." Her we loved, and many were the residual 
beans and supernumerary flapjacks that fell to her 
lot. One fault she had, but it was so natural, and by 
contrast so venial, that we easily forgave it her. It 
was a trick she had of hiding. During breakfast she 
would stroll about the camp, receiving our remain- 
ders and enjoying the conversation ; but when the 
time came that the detested " chores " engaged all 
our attention she would edge off and melt imper- 
ceptibly into the brush ; and when she was wanted 
for packing it seemed as if even her tracks had 
evaporated. At hide-and-seek she was a genius; 
nothing was too small to hide her; and when we 
returned from a fruidess search over half a mile of 



THE HIGH SIERRA 195 

rough country she was generally discovered drows- 
ing or browsing close to camp, and would meet us 
with a gaze so mild and serious as to quite disarm 
our resentment. 

Bodie's own mount was a handsome chestnut, 
clever, gentle, and self-reliant. In places where the 
mules and burros went timidly. Pet maintained his 
own bold gait, striding freely over glacial pavements 
where even the tap of their own hoofs kept the other 
animals shaking with nervousness. Considering that 
the natural habitat of the species is a region of plains 
and open distances, I admired the more the fine free- 
dom of his stride on the worst and steepest of trails. 

In his intercourse with his companions Pet never 
forgot the dignity of his rank. Nor did he refuse its 
responsibilities. Nothing pleased him so much as 
the opportunity, which came frequently enough, of 
rounding-up the pack-animals. Bodie usually rode 
in the rear, where he could best oversee the train, 
which sometimes was strung out over a hundred 
yards of trail ; and it often occurred that the first 
warning of foolishness on the part of the pack-mules 
or burros would come from Pet, quite independently 
of his rider. With his tail switching and a contemptu- 
ous toss and snort he would check his pace and jump 
aside to head the wanderers back into the path. The 
rebels, seeing him coming, usually stampeded in all 
directions, and Pet would then take them in hand 
one by one, outflanking, countermarching, and con- 
centrating with admirable strategy. 



196 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The two mules, one white, or rather of that un- 
pleasant color known as flea-bitten, and the other 
black, were used indifferently for packing" or riding. 
The black was a passionless sort of beast, a mere nu- 
meral, vacant even of the elementary trait of obsti- 
nacy. The other, whom we named Clementine, was 
noticeable for a ludicrous physiognomy that gave the 
impression of a continual simper. She nursed an 
elderly passion for Pet, and could not bear him to be 
out of her sight, though he, for his part, detested her 
and met her languishing blandishments with un- 
equivocal kicks. Knowing that nothing would tempt 
her to abandon his company, she was often allowed 
to fall behind the rest of the pack-train while she dal- 
lied with the trailside herbage. At such times, when 
she became suddenly aware that Pet was out of her 
view, she would charge wildly up the line, caroming 
ofi everything that came in her way, until she ar- 
rived close behind him, whereupon his ears would 
flatten and he would gather for a kick. 

Bodie's feelings at such moments were those of an 
artist watching helplessly the wreck of his handiwork. 
Not the securest of diamond-hitches could withstand 
the shock of the collisions which her packs had to 
endure with trees, rocks, and the other animals. By 
the time she reached the coveted place her pack was 
usually under her belly, and the whole train must 
halt while she was unloaded and repacked. Her 
eternal simper was at such times hard to bear, and 
you may be sure that her comfort was not much 



THE HIGH SIERRA 197 

considered when it came to the pull on the latigo- 
strap. 

Our road lay through open forest country, charm- 
ingly diversified and flowery. The most beautiful of 
all the Mariposa tulips grew abundantly in sunny 
places, rosy red in color and fantastically painted 
with blots of maroon and purple. Golden mimulus, 
purple godetias and pentstemons, and lavender lu- 
pines grew among the brush, itself fragrant and flow- 
ery, that broke with rounded bosses the severity of 
the straight-stemmed pines and cedars. The white 
mountain-lilac was still in blossom, burgeoning in 
cloudy masses, and providing the last ingredient in 
a landscape of perfectly proportioned color. Chamoe- 
batia also bore us company, like a friendly little 
mountaineer setting us cheerfully on our way. 

A long, gentle descent brought us to the South 
Fork of the Tuolumne, which we found easily ford- 
able. Until now I had not made the acquaintance 
of this river ; but it had always attracted me, perhaps 
simply by the oddity of its name, like a musical 
mouthful of chance syllables (Too-oFlum-ne) ; and 
although the stream I saw was not distinguished by 
any special beauty among the sisterhood of Sierra 
rivers, all lovely alike, still it was an event to meet it, 
and, as it were, check it ofT. 

Jack and Clementine had already wasted so much 
of our time in stoppages and re-packings that I de- 
cided to make an almost nominal day's march of it, 
and to camp at Ackerson Meadows instead of push- 



198 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

ing on to the Hog Ranch, which would have been no 
more than ten miles. The decision was welcomed by 
Bodie, and I found early in our acquaintance that he 
had all a good stockman's regard for the comfort of 
his beasts. When I announced also that during the 
expedition we should not break camp on Sundays I 
observed that the fact, though it occasioned him some 
surprise, gave him no distress. I, on my side, was not 
only willing, but anxious, to fall in with his sugges- 
tion of early starts, easy marches, and timely camps 
on other days, so far as possible ; and when I proved 
myself quite his match in the matter of early rising 
I believe he came to regard me as almost a paragon 
from this point of view. We were nearly always up 
by four o'clock. I fancied that Field was not fully in 
sympathy with such virtue, but he never complained, 
and always turned out ungrudgingly. 

It was not much after noon when we rode up to a 
little scorched-up house in a wide meadow, and were 
hospitably greeted by a hirsute Irishman who was 
"holding down" the ranch for the present owner, the 
successor of the original Ackerson. Choosing a spot 
for our camp on the edge of a swampy expanse which 
afforded good pasturage for the animals, we turned 
them loose, and, it being Saturday, made rather elab- 
orate preparations for a day and a half of unearned 
ease. The remains of the " little dinkies " gave a festal 
touch to the evening meal. 

While we lingered over the coffee, two young fel- 
lows appeared, carrying guns and heavily encrusted 



THE HIGH SIERRA 199 

with cartridges. An immature squirrel depended from 
the belt of one of the sportsmen. In the course of con- 
versation they remarked impressively that they had 
bear-meat to spare, and offered to share it with us if 
we would visit their camp, promising also to enter- 
tain us with music. Later in the evening, when Bodie 
had gone to swap items of news at the cabin, Field 
and I were walking over to pay our call and receive 
the expected boons when the skirling of a phono- 
graph warned us away, and we hastily retraced our 
steps and turned into our blankets early by way of 
compensation. I confess I find it difficult to for- 
give Mr. Edison for this diabolical invention, and I 
even welcomed as a mitigation the vociferous yelp- 
ing of a coyote halfway down the meadow. The 
conjunction of sounds formed what I should sup- 
pose must be an absolute novelty in tone combina- 
tions. 

Sunday passed in a kind of Nirvana of heat and 
laziness. Returning from a walk through flowery 
glades where beds of pale lilac lupine and foot-high 
fern were spread upon a brown floor of pine-needles, 
I found the rail-fence which enclosed the meadow 
decorated with an extensive " wash." Jenny thought- 
fully munched the sleeve of a blue jumper, while 
Bodie, lightly clad, slumbered in the shade. 

About sunset a solitary mallard visited us, flying 
three times silently around the vicinity of our camp. 
As it vanished with strong, steady wing-beats into 
the dusky glory of the west, I fancied that it might 



200 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

be the spirit of some departed Indian warrior, come 
to revisit his old hunting-grounds ; one of 

*' . . . the wandering spirits 
From the kingdom of Ponemah, 
From the land of the Hereafter." 

Half-past three next morning found us astir, and 
six o'clock saw us on the road, headed for the Hetch- 
Hetchy. At Stone's Meadows we rode through a very 
sea of some pretty, composite flower with yellow rays 
and a black centre, that grew in countless multitudes. 
In the hot, still morning these black-eyed Susans, as 
they stood silently drinking in the sunshine, seemed 
the very type of California's floral intemperance. 

The finest city lot is dreary and undesirable in com- 
parison with these emerald-and-topaz heavens. But 
this lovely spot is now uninhabited, and the old cabin, 
long disused and sunk into decay, kneels like a bro- 
ken-backed camel on the flowery sward. These aban- 
doned dwellings, which surprise the traveller in the 
loneliest portions of the Sierra, are the relics of the 
days of the sheep-men. By many a mountain meadow 
and clearing you will find the little ten-by-twelve 
hutches, doorless and windowless, with a tumble of 
stones at one end where used to be the chimney. 
Here, in the days when mutton was king, the gay 
songs of la belle France were sung by black-bearded 
Gascons to the gusty surge of accordions or the thin- 
blooded skirling of violins. On the frontiers of the 
Forest Reserves you may meet the little dark men 



THE HIGH SIERRA 201 

now, wandering from pasture to pasture with their 
placid charges, attended by two half-wild dogs and a 
weird little pack-burro. Whenever I encounter one of 
these sauntering pastors I seem to see a Jacob, and 
wonder in what Pyrenean village lives the Rachel for 
whom he is serving. 

We crossed the Middle Fork of the Tuolumne by 
a bridge of rough planks, and a few more miles 
brought us to the Hog Ranch. The hogs have given 
place to cattle, and these, with a few horses, now roam 
over the green expanse and wax fat beyond the wont 
of their kind on superb pasturage. The ranch is like 
an English park, — a lovely valley, wide and grassy, 
broken with clumps of oak and cedar ; but the house 
is a filthy old shanty which, nondescript and ugly 
at its best, and now long fallen into disrepair, is an 
ofTence to the eye and reeks with skunk-like odors. 

Thus far we had followed what is nominally a road, 
being practicable for robust vehicles ; but at this point 
a rougher country begins, and we entered upon our 
long trail. It made an inviting beginning, winding 
through shaded avenues deep in pine-needles and 
flowery with many brilliant blossoms. The most no- 
ticeable flower of this locality in midsummer is the 
godetia, which grows in low, close companies, paint- 
ing the ground in places with islands of solid purple. 
Mixed among them are handsome lily-like brodiaeas 
of a deep, pure blue, and the coral-red stars of the 
erythroea, with many another. But the character of 
the landscape soon changed, and for some distance 



202 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the trail led through open, rocky country, clad with a 
sparse growth of the unattractive and shadeless Sa- 
dmmna pine, which here appears at a greater eleva- 
tion than is usual with it, by virtue of some particular 
and local conditions. 

From an altitude of fifty- five hundred feet the 
trail made a long descent towards the north. Sud- 
denly there opened far below us a valley like another 
Yosemite, its clifTs, meadows, and winding river 
gleaming through the pearly summer haze. The 
white torrent of a waterfall could be plainly seen even 
at that distance, creeping down a great cliff on the 
northern side. I knew it at once as the Hetch-Hetchy. 

Down endless zigzags, " hotter 'n blazes," as Bodie 
truly said, among fine oaks and spruces, by creeks 
ferny, aldery, willowy, and through meadows blue, 
meadows yellow, meadows red, and meadows mixed 
of every color, we marched until we debouched at 
last upon the floor of the valley. Here met us a rep- 
resentative of the law in the form of a serious and 
taciturn young trooper, huge of limb and yellow of 
seven days' beard, a sort of youthful Oom Paul. He 
bore a large German pipe with a bowl like a small 
nail-keg, and remained canopied in clouds of plug- 
cut while he conducted his mild catechism : Names ? 
A, B, and C. Good. Come out from the valley? 
Sure. Where was we heading ? Could n't say exactly ; 
generally, north and east, off there. What was we out 
for ? Just taking in the country. Hunting ? No. No ? 
No. Guns in them packs ? No, again. Going by way 



THE HIGH SIERRA 203 

of Soda Springs? Might. When? Couldn't say. 
Know the country ? Ask him, Bodie. Oh, that Bodie? 
Go ahead. And waving his pipe benevolently at us, 
Oom Paul turned away and sank into an extempo- 
rized hammock, while we filed out upon the level in 
search of a camping-place. 

Any spot in this valley would be well-nigh ideal 
for the purpose, but it was still early in the day and 
we could afford to be critical. So we prospected for 
warm miles, with a special regard to the question of 
mosquitoes, which we had been warned might be 
troublesome here. 

There are two waterfalls in the Hetch-Hetchy. 
One of them is a short-lived burst of energy that be- 
gins and ends with the melting of the snows that lie 
above the northern wall of the valley. This fall is 
seen by but few people, for the last of its water es- 
capes before full summer arrives. I looked eagerly 
for this cataract, Too'eoola'la, which Bodie reported 
as far exceeding the other in power and beauty, de- 
claring that when in full career it filled the whole 
lower end of the valley with its whirling spume. But 
we were too late ; not a sign remained of what, per- 
haps two weeks earlier, would have been so splendid 
a sight. A spell of hot weather had upset the pail. 

The other fall, the Hetch-Hetchy, is not so transi- 
tory. It draws its waters from a creek twenty miles 
or more in length, and from a number of lakes and 
lakelets lying up on the high country to the north. 
It does not leap out, as do the various falls of the 



204 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Yosemite Valley, from the lip of a sheer cliff, to drift 
and dream in vapor ; but pours down a twisted and 
precipitous gorge, crashing from ledge to ledge, 
writhing and bursting in a terrific catastrophe. Seen 
from across the valley it is as if a broad vein of vir- 
gin silver, running from top to bottom of the two- 
thousand-foot precipice, had been laid bare by some 
great convulsion : such a treasure of solid metal as 
flushed the imagination of the Conquistadores. The 
Hetch-Hetchy Fall is thus of a quite different type 
from the other great waterfalls of the region, but in 
beauty it is fully their equal, and in features of wild- 
ness even their superior. 

Midway up the valley stands the remarkable cliff 
called the Kolana Dome. This magnificent rock of 
two thousand feet somewhat resembles in outline the 
mountain known as Liberty Cap in the Yosemite, 
and stands fronting the river with a face almost per- 
pendicular, and rolling back the roar of the Hetch- 
Hetchy Fall. Passing around the foot of this cliff, 
and skirting a pretty pool which renders a perfect 
reflection of rock and waterfall, pine and sky, we 
stopped at a clump of small cedars near a deserted 
cabin that stood on the bank of the river, and there 
made camp. 

The Tuolumne as it flows through the Hetch- 
Hetchy takes on a character very unusual in Califor- 
nia rivers. It becomes a placid, slow-moving stream, 
wide and deep, gliding under outreaching branches 
of oak and pine. Not a ripple breaks the shining 



THE HIGH SIERRA 205 

current, except where trout are leisurely dining. It 
would be a superb place in which to dream away a 
summer. The green and golden air laps one in un- 
broken content : it is like that land of the Lotos- Eat- 
ers "in which it seemed always afternoon." And 
with a boat or canoe, what afternoons one might 
have on that street of charmed water! Still more, 
what evenings, watching through the leafy screen 
the sunset flushing up the pearly walls ; or drifting 
under spandrelled arcades of oak and sumptuous 
foliations of pine and cedar, the cathedral gloom 
lighted by windows that open on gold and amethyst 
skies. And then the mornings, steeped in the in- 
credible freshness of the California dawn ; brushing 
through knee-high meadows where yellow enotheras 
stand in companies like pale odalisques ; or through 
thickets of ceanothus sweet as hedges of hawthorn, 
where robins are bustling and the powdery blossoms 
fall like snow ; or fighting duels with chivalrous 
trout in the ripple where the gleaming current is 
drawn swiftly over into broken water. 

The heat of the day had so evaporated our ener- 
gies that no one would volunteer to build a fire. The 
spot where, by Bodie's choice, we had camped, re- 
vealed signs of recent occupation by another party, 
which was objectionable when we had the whole val- 
ley to choose from ; and as we ate our cold supper and 
slapped at the mosquitoes by prosaic candlelight, 
we decided to remove next day to the other side. 
. With this move in view we had engaged to be up 



2o6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

by four o'clock or earlier ; but when in the early grey 
I rose on my elbow and looked over to Bodie's sleep- 
ing-place, I was not sorry to see the deep quiescence 
of his form, and willingly returned to light slumbers. 
Half-a-dozen times at intervals I looked again ; still 
no sign. Then Field got up, shouldered the camera, 
and went off to keep an appointment down the valley 
with a view which must be caught before the ripple 
came on the water. Next I arose, and last of all Bodie, 
with unnecessary explanations. 

After breakfast, leaving him to pack, I retraced our 
yesterday's trail for some distance, in order to review 
with a fresher mind the features of the lower end of 
the valley. A hot sun was already drawing up the 
dew that lay on bush and sward. The haze of yester- 
day was gone, and every scratch and scoring on the 
majestic walls showed as clearly as if it were cut on 
steel under one's hand. The young leafage of the 
oaks shone with a dull, clean burnish, like the skin 
of an athlete. The sumptuous tassels of the yellow 
pines, which here grow in remarkable perfection of 
symmetry, shone with diamond-points that fell in 
showers where squirrels leaped from spray to spray. 
Birds were foraging cheerfully, in the certainty of 
breakfast ; and high up in a brilliant sky an eagle 
swung, a mere point of black, like a planet circling 
in space. In a corner of the meadow a company of 
evening-primroses were gleaming palely in the pro- 
tecting shade of the oaks. To me there is something 
very poetic and sensitive about these flowers, with 



THE HIGH SIERRA 207 

their slender, moon-like graces : as 't were, I know not 
how. Next I chanced upon a bush of ripe raspberries, 
and while I loitered with these I was entertained by 
a party of lively young king-snakes that were either 
quarrelling or playing in the brush, chasing one 
another about with a rapidity of movement and a 
play of color that were quite bewildering. 

I am always meeting people who report of this or 
that place that it is ''thick" with deer, or bear, or 
such things; but I have never yet found the term 
justified when I came to the spot. Thus we had been 
told that the Hetch-Hetchy was thick with rattle- 
snakes. As a matter of fact none of us saw one there ; 
and the whole time we were out we met only two, 
one of which was killed by Field at Lake Eleanor, 
and the other by me in the Till-till. In the Yosemite 
itself I have never seen a rattlesnake, though I killed 
two some distance up the Tenaya Cafion. 

In general features the Hetch-Hetchy is a remark- 
able duplication of the Yosemite. The mountain-walls 
are of the same character, though they are not, on 
the whole, so high and cliff-like. There are the same 
clean-drawn, dome-like outlines, the same quiet beauty 
of winding river, the same level meadow-floor, dotted 
with stately trees and sprinkled thickly with flowers. 
There are the same pine-ranked precipices, and cloudy 
waterfalls, and huge cubed shatters of talus ; and 
though there are no such geological marvels as the 
Half-Dome or the Sentinel, no such dominating mass 
as El Capitan, it is still a phenomenon that Nature, 



2oS YOSEMITE TRAILS 

with her magnificent carelessness, should have chosen 
to use two designs so nearly alike. 

The upper part of the valley is a park-like stretch 
of level grass-land, with fine oaks as the predominat- 
ing member in a partnership of oak, pine, and cedar. 
The characteristic tree of the Hetch-Hetchy is the 
oak, which attains there a notable perfection, leaving 
the conifers the second place, — a condition which is 
just reversed in the Yosemite, with its half-thousand 
-K feet more of elevation. The southern wall rises at 
this upper end to a great height, culminating in a 
precipitous ridge, with an altitude of seventy-eight 
hundred feet, which is named after ** a party of the 
name of Smith." At this point the valley may be said 
to begin ; above, it **cafions" to the long gorge that 
is known as the Grand Cafion of the Tuolumne. In 
this deep ravine the river rushes in continuous cas- 
cades for twenty miles : here, as it enters the valley, 
it widens to a thoughtful stream that glides as peace- 
fully as the idyll of a summer day. 

' The main trail crosses the river at the head of the 

valley by a plank bridge near where Rancheria and 
Till-till creeks join almost as they enter the main 
stream. Thence heading east and north it passes 
over Rancheria Mountain into the wilderness of laced 
and braided cafions in which a week later we were 
wandering. Near the bridge another trail branches 
westerly, and following the northern side of the val- 
ley enables one to make a complete circuit. This trail 
is a particularly interesting one, skirting the river, 



THE HIGH SIERRA 209 

which flows in a broad stream a hundred feet wide 
under overarching oaks and cedars. 

About opposite Kolana Dome, the mountain-wall 
presses sheer and close to the river, and the trail is 
carried on a rocky ledge a few feet above high-water 
mark. Then it passes through levels where by mid- 
summer the brakes stand shoulder-high, and only 
the humped loads of your pack-train appear above 
the ferny lake. Crossing Falls Creek where it runs, 
a lovely white torrent, carrying all the water of the 
great Hetch-Hetchy Fall, it next enters wide oak- 
glades where every tree is a specimen of oak perfec- 
tion, reaching out wide, full-leaved branches to join 
hands with its fellows. You ride through pillared ar- 
cades where the very air is green, as in a conserva- 
tory, and flowers thrive to giant size in the delectable 
mingling of shade and sunshine. Here lusty spikes 
of lupine drop their pollen on your horse's shoulder, 
and there you push through columbines that swing 
drops of wine and amber above the level sea of 
bracken. 

I had found, on returning in expectation of dinner, 
that my companions had struck camp in my absence, 
and gone round by the bridge, leaving me to follow 
at my leisure. It was late afternoon when the sound 
of an urgent tattoo, performed stringendo on a fry- 
ing-pan, fell sweetly on my ears, and a few moments 
brought me to the new camp, and diurnal but never 
monotonous beans. Bodie had chosen a spot close to 
the foot of our to-morrow's trail, which climbs out of 



2IO YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the valley at the northwest corner. A picturesque 
log-house, doorless and ownerless, stands here under 
giant oaks, where a natural flower-garden of wild- 
roses leads down to the grassy meadow. After sup- 
per I strolled about my garden while the primroses 
opened their gentle, moon-like faces, and the hum- 
mingbird moths came whirring about, thick as cock- 
chafers under a chestnut tree : and I think that no 
proud possessor of famous rosery ever enjoyed a 
more delicate entertainment of scents than did I in 
this Hetch-Hetchy solitude. 

The breeze that had blown during the afternoon 
died away; the aspens ceased their excited little 
dances ; the sun blazed down a final salvo of heat for 
warning of to-morrow ; and after lying an hour gaz- 
ing up through the starry foliage at the darkening 
sky, we took shelter under early blankets from the 
mosquitoes which rose in hosts from the wet grass 
of the meadow. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE HIGH SIERRA: THE HETCH-HETCHY TO 
THE TILL-TILL 

SIX o'clock next morning found us climbing the 
steep trail out of the Hetch-Hetchy, at a point 
about opposite where we had entered it. The upper 
end of the valley lay in the early sunlight that streamed 
between the eastern peaks, while the whole lower half 
was eclipsed in the vast shadow of Kolana. A heavy 
dew lay grey on the meadows, and the river ran green 
in the sunshine and steely dark in the shade. On the 
opposite wall the pinnacles of the pines already shim- 
mered in light of a smoky hotness. I looked over to 
where Oom Paul's camp should be for the smoke of 
his morning bacon, but I fear he is no early riser. 

A climb of some two thousand feet in a distance 
of not much over a mile brought us to the top of the 
ascent. Early as it was the sun was scorching, and 
we congratulated ourselves on having broken the 
back of the day's travelling while we were fresh. We 
now entered a cool forest of cedar and yellow pine, 
with here and there a sugar pine rising in conspicu- 
ous majesty. Squirrels and blue-jays made a lively 
stir. Little pools of clear water lay in grassy hollows, 
reflecting the white and blue of the sky. Purple gode- 



212 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

tias flocked in every sunny opening, and tall lilies 
and larkspurs glowed in the shade of the forest aisles. 

A few miles of easy travelling brought us to an- 
other meadow golden with flowers. Here dwelt in 
past times one Miguel, a Mexican who has been 
translated by the cartographers of the Geological 
Survey into the clan of the McGills. Traces of his 
occupancy remain in a rail-fence that wanders in an 
irresolute manner about the meadow, the old cedar 
rails whitening like bones in the sun, or submerged 
a fathom deep in idle herbage. Each of these mead- 
ows seems more delightful than the last. Sequestered 
in deep forest and hushed eternally by its murmur, 
they are heavenly places of birds and flowers, bits of 
original paradise. The little brooks that water them 
ring carillons of tinkling melody as they wind through 
shady tunnels of carex and bending grasses. At morn- 
ing and evening and on moonlit nights the deer come, 
no longer even at the trouble of leaping the fences, 
to regale on mint and lettuce that has descended 
through many generations from the old settler's vege- 
table-garden. All day the robins and the meadow- 
larks repeat their canticles from the last remaining 
fence-posts, and squirrels and chipmunks scamper 
along the sagging rails, appreciating the convenience 
of a literal railway. 

A turn of the trail brought us sooner than we had 
expected in view of Lake Eleanor. This is a hand- 
some sheet of water, a mile and a half long and half 
as wide, with timbered mountains sweeping down to 



THE HIGH SIERRA 213 

the shore at all points except the southwest, where 
Eleanor Creek flows out of the lake through meadows 
brilliantly green. On the northern side fine cliffs fall 
sheer to the water, rising at the eastern end to a con- 
spicuous white dome. The lake was very still, and the 
reflection of the dark cliffs perfect, except when the 
blue was broken for a moment by wandering flaws 
of wind. In the middle a black speck that was creep- 
ing about warned us that we were not to be entirely 
alone. 

A steep descent led us to the lake level, near where 
a small meadow bordered by a creek offered a good 
camping-place. Here retribution overtook Jack, who 
by this time had earned the hearty ill-will of us all. 
Leaving the trail in his usual offensive fashion, he 
was trying to push through an opening of the brush 
near the edge of the lake, where the ground was more 
boggy than he supposed. In a moment he was up 
to his belly in black mire. Field ran forward to hold 
him by his halter-rope, and Bodie, laying hold of his 
tail with one hand, gave him a terrific rope-ending 
with the other. The jack, half sunk in slimy ooze, 
could do nothing to retaliate, though he was frantic 
with passion and actually bit himself in his impotent 
rage. 

Not the least of our guide's accomplishments was 
the lightning rapidity with which he could throw a 
meal together. The moment we reached our camp- 
ground he would have the pack off the animal that 
carried the cooking tackle, and within five minutes a 



214 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

fire would be burning and batter mixed for flapjacks. 
Almost before Field and I had the other animals un- 
loaded Bodie would be hailing us that the grub was 
getting cold. 

Bread needed but little longer time, though he was 
rigorous with himself in this matter, and would criti- 
cise his product severely for the least shortcoming. 
The new Dutch-oven, primarily intended for the bak- 
ing of bread, came to fulfil many uses : now it became 
the vehicle of a " mulligan '* ; anon it would hold our 
potatoes or coffee. I once happened to refer to it as 
the sine qua non, having regard to its varied uses. 
The term took Bodie's fancy mightily; it became 
then and thenceforth the "sinkienon"; and I have 
no doubt it is the sinkienon to-day, to the perplexity 
of other travellers under his convoy. 

Its shape, a portly spheroid supported upon three 
Falstaffian legs, made the sinkienon something of a 
problem in packing. By experience we found that it 
travelled best seated on the top of one of the packs, 
securely lashed to keep it in place. In this position 
it resembled some stout captive, or Begum, in a how- 
dah. It was always the last to be lifted up, and the 
first to be lifted down ; and when Jack or Clementine 
ran amuck our first anxiety was ever for its safety. 

In the afternoon heavy clouds gathered in the east, 
enhancing the solitary beauty of the scene. All the 
natural colors of the landscape seemed to be with- 
drawn, leaving only black, white, and a full chord of 
greys. Leaden masses of vapor drooped over the 



THE HIGH SIERRA 215 

lake, and lay furled along- the line of the black clifTs 
on the opposite shore. Far in the east a line of ragged, 
spiky peaks stood high up in the sky, lighted now 
and then for a moment by the westering sun through 
cloud rents of gloomy glory. A group of aspens on 
a low point were reflected on the dark surface of the 
lake as if drawn in Chinese white, and the heavy 
water moved uneasily under the massed lily pads 
near the shore. Everything promised a storm; but 
no storm came, and I relieved the disappointment by 
a swim in water of a delightful temperature, with a 
charmed stillness in the air, and the ripples flowing 
away from me as I swam in shining curves of black 
and white. 

Among a clump of tall pines on the shore we found 
two soldiers camped. The mystery of the boat we 
had seen was explained when we found the old dug- 
out canoe in which these peaceful sons of Mars went 
fishing, or paddled serenely about upholding the ma- 
jesty of the law. Half-a-dozen times a day they rowed 
across an arm of the lake to fill their buckets at an 
ice-cold spring. They are happy warriors whose lot 
it is to serve their country so. 

My plans as to our route were not very definitely 
laid down. The intention was simply to strike east- 
erly from this point, keeping north of the Tuolumne 
River, crossing the crest of the Sierra by one of the 
two or three passes that I knew to be practicable, 
refitting at Mono Lake, and returning by one of the 
passes farther to the south. In conversation with the 



2i6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

soldiers we learned that the wildest part of the region, 
and therefore the most attractive, lay up in the di- 
rection of the Matterhorn peaks to the northeast. I 
had not provided myself with maps of that part of 
the Sierra which lies north of the *' Yosemite " and 
*' Mount Lyell" quadrangles of the Geological Sur- 
vey, nor had Bodie, as it happened, traversed this 
part of the mountains. But he had no doubt of being 
able to find a way through to the east, by his know- 
ledge of the general topography of the range. 

The name of the Matterhorn peaks had a highly 
desirable sound. We pored for an hour by candle- 
light over the soldiers' maps, and decided that we 
must see the country that answered to such a name. 

The next morning was clear and sparkling. Early 
ducks were breakfasting among the water-lilies, and 
the lake was still sleeping in the shadow of the east- 
ern mountains, when we took the back-trail up to the 
summit. The roar of falls on Eleanor Creek, a mile 
away, reached us clearly on the still air. The brush 
was drenched in dew, and under a genial sun poured 
out its most pungent essences, and all the wayside 
blossoms had that divine freshness that flowers wear 
in early morning, as if they were newly brought from 
heavenly conservatories. There grows about here 
a giant kind of forget-me-not, with stems eighteen 
inches high and flowers three quarters of an inch 
across, a forget-me-not of the forget-me-nots, not to 
be forgotten. 

At the head of the divide we found our new trail 



THE HIGH SIERRA 217 

bearing away to the northeast, near where it crosses 
a rushing stream called Frog Creek. Looking back 
to the west we bade a second farewell to the lake, 
now showing an oval disk of gleaming blue among 
folds of dark forested mountains. Far beyond, a 
glimmering haze lay over the arid valley of the San 
Joaquin, and a wavy band of neutral -tint just indi- 
cated the outlines of the Coast Range. It was an 
ideal painter's landscape. 

On the north exposure of the mountain-sides 
around us magnificent firs stood like a picked regi- 
ment, every individual tall, straight, and handsome: 
the southward-facing slopes carried a mixed forest 
of yellow pine, sugar pine, and cedar, with stray out- 
posts of the tamaracks. A waving sea of fern flowed 
over all the forest floor, interspersed with tall spikes 
of blue lupine and yellow and red columbine. These 
two dwellers in the greenwood grow nearly always 
in company and seem to have a conscious affinity. 
Lupine is a jaunty kind of lad, careless and bold ; 
columbine is pretty and rustic, but a bit of a rogue, 
too, in her way ; the lightest dancer with the neatest 
ankle in all the forest. They make a gallant pair, of 
the true order of lovers in Arcady. 

Fording the creek, where ouzels were out-singing 
the singing water, along descent brought us to Lau- 
rel Lake, a small round sheet of water, not one tenth 
the size of Eleanor, delightfully gentle and secluded. 
Around the margin grew a rich belt of flowering 
shrubs. Azaleas bloomed in billowy masses, and 



2i8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

scented the air with their hot-house fragrance. Be- 
yond the ring of verdure the firs and pines were 
ranked thickly on all the slopes, and the little lake 
shone like a turquoise in its double setting. To the 
north a ridge of bare granite rose above the timber, 
glistening hardly less white than the summer clouds 
that were beginning to appear above it. 

The sight of that barren mountain made me rest- 
less. There is something in me, and no doubt in 
many of us, that longs ungovernably toward the 
wild and savage in Nature. It awoke now, and called 
to me a hundred -fold louder than these scented 
shades ; and after a few minutes' rest we pushed on 
toward Vernon Lake. We had been told that there 
was a practicable cut-off by making east across coun- 
try ; but I have seldom found it pay to attempt to 
break new country of this kind with pack-animals, 
and we took the back -trail to the forks. From here 
the new trail continued north and east through fine 
forest, where many of the sugar pines measured from 
seven to eight feet in diameter near the base. 

While Field returned to Laurel Lake to recover 
one of his cameras that had been left behind, I aban- 
doned myself to the deep charm of the forest, here 
mainly of firs. It is in the fir-woods that the fullest 
peace and calm in Nature abide. The silence is su- 
perb. It is not the empty, aching silence of deserts 
and mountain summits, but a silence that is thought- 
ful, comprehensible, and companionable. Ever and 
anon there rings for a moment through the dim, still 



THE HIGH SIERRA 219 

aisles the cadence of the " organ-bird," — I know not 
what else to call it, — full of an indescribable poign- 
ancy that is like a pang of memory, or the exquisite 
remembrance of lost delight. A phrase, no more, but 
always of that haunting sweetness ; now here, now 
there. The spirit of some sorrowful, wild nymph is 
in that bird. 

The trail now trended more northerly, entering a 
rough and rocky country with a more open forest. 
There was an unusual amount of fallen timber, and 
presently we came upon a recent windfall which com- 
pletely obscured the trail. We made wide detours, 
only to encounter everywhere prostrate trunks whose 
shattered arms stretched up as if they appealed to 
heaven against the outrage of their destruction. One 
by one the scattered members of the party trickled 
through the huge obstruction. Jack, whom I con- 
voyed, did himself credit for once by feats of sur- 
passing agility, and making no account of his load 
(which, you may be sure, was not the lightest), leaped 
breast-high trunks almost gaily. 

We emerged at different points, and after repairing 
damages cast about for our trail. It had vanished 
from the face of the earth as if it had never been. At 
length we discovered faint traces of what might have 
been an antediluvian trail, and following it arrived at 
a pretty meadow beside which stood a decrepit cabin. 
This we recognized as Beehive, — a cryptic designa- 
tion to which nothing about the place offered any 
clue. 



220 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

A hundred yards beyond the cabin the faint track 
we had followed petered out once more. There is 
something exceedingly annoying in this behavior on 
the part of a trail. Half an hour of the most careful 
search left us entirely at fault ; and hungry and dis- 
gusted we gave up the puzzle and went into camp 
beside the cabin. We had breakfasted before five 
o'clock and it was then two in the afternoon. 

By some peculiarity of land contour the wind at- 
tains here a specially powerful sweep. While we were 
eating lunch a sudden gust overturned a tall tree 
close by. It fell with a resounding crash that gave us 
a respectful admiration for the wilduproar tha tmust 
reign here when winter storms are raging, and in- 
fected me, at least, with a deep desire to witness such 
a Homeric combat. In our sunny, pacific valleys we 
know only one side of our mother's nature : we never 
see her in severity of snow, nor in her sudden passions 
and relentings, and we lose much thereby. 

The reaction in our feelings that came with fulness 
of bread left us resigned to the breaking of our plans 
which had contemplated camping that night at Ver- 
non Lake. It was necessary, however, to find our trail, 
and leaving Bodie to the passive industry of cooking 
beans, Field and I walked up the meadow to survey 
for the actual location of the missing lake. Its dis- 
tance from Beehive had been reported by the soldiers 
at Eleanor as one mile. Bodie, who had fallen into a 
mood of pessimism, declared that we should find it 
six ; but I had already observed that our good guide 



THE HIGH SIERRA 221 

held in scorn any opinion of the military that touched 
upon his own province. He was wont, indeed, to 
roundly assert that soldiers in the mountains always 
got lost if they ventured half a mile away from camp. 
On the farther side of the meadow we met our lost 
trail, and followed it for two miles through a long 
swale of marshy ground where myriads of white and 
blue violets and purple cyclamens were rejoicing in 
the spring, which at this elevation was in full celebra- 
tion now in mid-July. The Sierra spring is six or 
eight months long : one might almost say, indeed, in 
the words of the hymn, " There everlasting spring 
abides." Beginning in February or March, when the 
foothills blaze with the red gold of eschscholtzias, one 
might follow the spring upward, witnessing from week 
to week and meadow to meadow the perpetual mir- 
acle. All through the months when the lowlands lie 
parched and gasping, and the evening diversions of 
the city householder are reduced to the watering of 
his lawn, the green-gowned goddess is climbing the 
cafions and benches of the mountains. Resting here 
and there beside snow-banks and ice-fountains, she 
waves her wand over the sleeping flowery hosts and 
draws them up from under their green counterpane. 
And when September draws to a close, and farmers 
in the valley begin to scan the heavens for signs of 
early rains, still around the high alpine lakes, them- 
selves like azure flowers, she is waking violets, cycla- 
mens, and castilleias, when winter rushes upon her 
and smothers her under sudden snows. 



222 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Reaching the summit of a gentle ridge we looked 
expectingly for our lake, but in vain. Deep cafions 
rifted a wilder country than we had hitherto seen. In 
one of them the -lake must lie, but to-morrow must 
settle in which. We returned to camp, and I could 
see that our report gave Bodie a sardonic pleasure, 
as corroborating his assertion of the soldiers' lack of 
trail-craft. 

Mosquitoes descended upon us in swarms while we 
ate our supper. They also follow the spring, and here 
they were in the full zest of the joy of life. Three 
smudges and the same number of pipes, all working 
industriously, hardly abated their ardor, and we could 
but sit and endure while we waited for them to 
succumb to the chill of the falling temperature. The 
animals, neglecting the excellent pasturage of the 
meadow, came and stood with us in the lee of the 
smudges, gazing at us with glistening eyes. Our fa- 
vorite, Jenny, with superior strategy, would invite the 
tormentors to settle freely upon her ; then kneeling 
quietly down she would suddenly but carefully roll 
over upon them, and arise gloriously besmeared with 
the blood of the slain. 

Upon the trunk of a pine close to our camp I no- 
ticed some peculiar marks, partly obliterated by the 
growth of the bark. They did not look like letters, 
yet had evidently been cut by the hand of man. As 
I was going over to examine them I found near the 
tree two or three heavy flat stones, and guessed that 
I had chanced upon the grave of some old back- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 223 

woodsman. A simple dignity invests such a place of 
sepulchre akin to that of the field where the great 
triad of Israelitish patriarchs were buried. How much 
better than the vulgar haberdashery of undertakers 
are the healthy tassels of kindly pine that wave and 
sigh over the remains of this nameless squatter. 

By six o'clock next morning we were again on the 
move, passing up the long meadow among groves of 
twisted aspens that were even now only half upright 
after their burial under the snows of the previous win- 
ter. (Bodie's abbreviated name for these trees was 
** quaking ass," — so it sounded, — and when I first 
heard him use the term I imagined that he was 
making some reference to the jack.) Crossing a low 
divide the trail passed out on to expanses of barren 
granite, polished to a glassy surface by glacial action. 
The animals went nervously clattering and sliding 
over the glistening rock, from which the sun was re- 
flected with painful intensity. A few twisted junipers 
grasped the crevices and grew into weird conforma- 
tions that seemed to express equally the pangs of 
hunger and the pains of savage storms. 

As we rounded a shoulder of mountain, suddenly 
our lake was before us ; a true Sierra lake, lying open 
and cold in a cup of granite. Its altitude is sixty- 
six hundred feet, only a few hundred feet higher 
than Laurel Lake ; but it is of a very different char- 
acter. The bare granite drops unbroken to the water 
on the east ; around the west a fringe of trees finds 
a footing ; and at the northern end is a strip of vivid 



224 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

meadow, where should have been our bivouac last 
night. At the upper end of the lake an antique raft 
was moored, built of a few logs chained together, the 
work of some bygone fishermen who would not be 
denied of the mighty trout that lounge about the 
deep middle of the water. 

This all looked inviting enough, but it was much 
too early to think of camping ; and, moreover, I knew 
that lakes by scores and hundreds lay before us ; 
strung like beads along every canon ; sunk like se- 
crets in every dark belt of forest ; smiling frankly 
open on high granite plateaus and under eaves of 
perpetual snow. So, leaving the lake at the south 
end, and crossing a wild little creek that scours and 
swirls away over polished rock at cascade speed, we 
climbed by zigzags over a barren mountain to the 
east. A magnificent view opened from the ridge to 
the south and west, the great cliffs of the Hetch- 
Hetchy rising clear and bold in middle distance, with 
the forest ocean beyond rolling away and away into 
blue infinitude. 

Here our trail plunged again into heavy timber. 
These abrupt and frequent transitions are a pecul- 
iarity of the Sierra, dreamy forest and explicit gran- 
ite alternating continually, and both alike painted 
with cheerful meadows and gardens and ribbons of 
flowers. In this case, however, the long descent 
brought us to a tedious region of brush, through 
which we toiled for hours under a sun that beat 
down upon us in dizzying blasts of heat. Far below 



THE HIGH SIERRA 225 

we could see a green and pleasant valley, and wind- 
ing through it a gleaming creek ; but the trail seemed 
to threaten to pass it by, keeping obstinately along 
the southward -facing mountain -side. At length a 
sudden steep descent took us down to the level, and 
we guessed that we had chanced upon the Till-till, a 
small valley lying above and to the northeast of the 
Hetch-Hetchy, corresponding in a way to the posi- 
tion of the Little Yosemite with regard to the Yo- 
semite Valley. 

The usual abandoned cabin proclaimed some de- 
parted settler. By preference I always avoid the 
neighborhood of these cheerless objects, with their 
purlieus of mouldering gunny-sacks and rusty cans, 
and crossing the creek we came to a halt under a 
handsome cedar beneath which lay the shed antlers 
of a deer. 

The day being Saturday we made preparations for 
a two -nights' camp. The principal difference lay in 
our setting up a rough tent by simply running one of 
the lash-ropes between a couple of trees and throw- 
ing the largest pack-canvas across it, anchoring the 
sides with rocks or pegs, as convenient. This tent 
was really only a ceremonious adjunct, of no particu- 
lar use, but erected in deference to a convention as 
signifying unlimited ease and comparative perma- 
nence. 

On this occasion, however, 'it served a real pur- 
pose. Clouds had been gathering all the morning in 
the north, and thunder rumbled at intervals. To- 



226 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

wards evening- the storm broke suddenly, while we 
were employed over the weekly clothes -washing. 
For an hour deluges of rain and hail fell alternately, 
while we sat in patriarchal wise in the door of our 
tent, or made sallies in turn to sustain the sputtering 
fire under the sinkienon. Later, when the mosquito 
hordes arose in unusual vigor, we lighted a virulent 
smudge at the windward opening of the tent, and 
sat looking out at the lee end, reeking and weeping 
together in the pungent smoke. 

The Till-till is a camping-place of unusual attrac- 
tiveness. It is an enclosed valley of the richest ver- 
dure, sown with flowers and planted with a charming 
variety of trees. All around are timbered mountains, 
sweeping up on the north to a castle-like summit of 
crags. On this high peak the thunder-storm de- 
livered its main assault, and it was a fine spectacle 
to watch the dark gathering of the clouds about it, 
and to see the glittering spears of lightning leap and 
quiver against its majestic cliffs. A long promontory 
of glacial-polished rock divides the valley length- 
wise, and rooted in its crannies I found a quaint col- 
lection of dwarfed pines and junipers, as wild of shape 
and aged of look as if they might themselves have 
been ground under primeval glaciers ; six inches of 
knotted stem to six feet of sinewy root. About the 
meadow stand delicate aspens and stately pines, and 
knee-high cyclamens form fairy groves among the 
tall reeds and grasses. The river abounds with trout, 
and even the grass of the marshes shivers with wrig- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 227 

gling fish. I suppose that to rigorous sportsmen such 
abundance would be contemptible, but as for us, we 
fished and ate with no qualms of that sort. 

By sunset the storm had passed, and the clouds 
broke into masses of ragged gold and swept gor- 
geously away like a procession of kings. Then a timid 
little moon came up above the southern wall, pouring 
down her silvery peace upon rain-laden grass and 
glistening rock and river, a symbol of the meekness 
that inherits the earth. 

I awoke during the night, and lay for a long time 
watching with admiration too deep for that word the 
cloudy panorama of the skies. The moon was full 
and yellow, and the light about her, combining with 
the intense depth of the open spaces of the heavens, 
made her seem to be sunk as in a well, dark and 
clear, from whence her light streamed down with a 
steady, concentrated effulgence. Vast wings of cloud, 
feathered with little plumy sprays, rose to beyond 
the zenith, and against their lower edges the ranks of 
pine and fir on the high mountain ridge were etched 
in sooty blackness. The world was very still, as if the 
operations of Nature were for a time suspended, 
pausing to fulfil the solemn beauty to the uttermost. 

I remember that I had at the time, and have had 
on similar occasions, a vivid impression of having 
been purposely awakened ; and I sometimes wonder 
whether there may not be in circumstances of unusual 
beauty or impressiveness an actual force or presence, 
which in some mysterious manner passes the locked 



228 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

gates of the senses, and, laying upon us its thrilling 
hand, wakes us that we may not miss the unearthly 
pageant. Bodie, however, had a simpler explanation 
of my wakefulness. He "guessed there was a rock 
sticking into me.'' 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE HIGH SIERRA: THE TILL-TILL TO 
LAKE BENSON 

FOLLOWING a Sunday of sheer laziness, day- 
break found us stirring, and by six o'clock we 
had breakfasted, packed, and were passing up the 
dew-drenched meadow. At the east end of the valley 
the trail divides. One branch doubles back to south 
and west, and connecting with the Rancheria Moun- 
tain trail, enters the Hetch-Hetchy at its upper end. 
We took the other, which swings northward and 
climbs by zigzags around a peak whose perpendicular 
crags are built up in tiers like the pipes of a gigantic 
organ. To the west stood the strong clifis of the 
Hetch-Hetchy, and southward a break in the long, 
flowing ridge of Rancheria Mountain showed the 
gleam of snow on a higher summit, which Bodie 
figured would be " ofE around White Wolf and Smoky 
Jack." 

The morning was cloudless, and blue mist was 
pouring into the canon with the sunshine. Through 
it the meadows of the Till-till and the great ledge of 
shining rock gave back quick lights like an opal. The 
sun waxed hot and hotter, and packs shifted with 
disgusting frequency. There was no sign of the trail 



230 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

having been travelled this year, but tracks of bear, 
deer, and mountain-lion were unusually plentiful, and 
grouse boomed in the scrawny, low-growing pines 
and junipers. A dull and simple-minded bird is the 
grouse of the Sierra. You may almost walk upon him 
before he will rise, and then he will but fly to the 
nearest branch and sit there in plain view, nearly 
tumbling off in his anxiety to get a good look at you. 
If you stop to pelt him with stones he does but gaze 
with deeper interest, quite unable to grasp the idea 
that the missiles that whiz past are directed at him. 

Crossing the divide after a hard climb we passed 
under a high ridge, forested along the crest and 
sweeping down in slopes of grass and bracken such 
as you may see among the Welsh and English moun- 
tains. To the east a long barren caiion ran straight 
for miles to its head, where a line of snowy peaks 
rose sharply against the sky. Then came a long 
semi-meadow, edged with aspen and tamarack and 
sprinkled with violets, cyclamens, forget-me-nots, and, 
most exquisite of all, myriads of the large lavender 
daisies [Erigeroii)^ which came to be, more than any 
other of my flower companions, my daily delight 
while I was in the high altitudes where it grows. 

I could willingly devote a chapter to this most 
charming flower, so greatly did its beauty enter into 
me during my wanderings in the High Sierra. As 
with people, so with flowers, simplicity is what makes 
them lovable: and the compositae are all for sim- 
plicity. I suppose there is no flower that is so beloved 



THE HIGH SIERRA 231 

as the common daisy ; and if it were decreed that all 
flowers but one, which we might choose, were to be 
taken from us, this would be the one the world would 
elect to keep. All over the Sierra these choicest of 
daisies stand through the summer in countless my- 
riads, giving the chance traveller his friendliest greet- 
ing, or in lonely unvisited meadows and forest ways 
smiling lovingly back at the sky. It is the flower 
that remains in one's memory the longest, loved far 
beyond the rarer beauties of those solitudes. 

An old cabin stood decaying on the edge of the 
meadow, and a mile or so farther on, another, its 
back broken by a tall fir that had fallen across it. A 
coyote sat on his haunches near by, so engrossed in 
the moral reflections appropriate to the scene that he 
did not see us until we were close upon him. Then 
he loped away with a ridiculous pretence of believ- 
ing he had not been seen, though every shout sent 
him scurrying faster. A Clarke crow perched on a 
tamarack uttered remarkable sounds, expressive, I 
thought, of malicious pleasure as he watched his re- 
treat. There were all the elements of a fable in the 
scene. 

The trail climbed up among rocky ledges where 
clumps of pentstemon were blossoming with purple 
trumpets. Beautiful flowers are these, too ; but with- 
out the fearless grace of the daisies with their open 
skyward look. Suddenly at a rise there came into 
view a long line of notched and splintered peaks only 
a few miles away, opening southward on a still higher 



232 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

and more distant line which marked the crest of the 
Sierra. A deep gorge opened below us, with lakelets 
and meadowlets strung along it, and lines of timber 
tracing every crease and rift of the granite, black on 
white, like a charcoal drawing. Down into it our trail 
seemed about to plunge, but swung abruptly off to the 
north by a little lake of ale-brown water, half full of 
fallen timber. Here I met my first Sierra heather 
{Bryanthus)^ with one spray of rosy blossom still 
waiting for me. I had been eagerly watching for the 
little plant which bore such a friendly name, and 
recognized it at once. I could not forbear kissing the 
brave little sprig of blossom, and stuck it in my som- 
brero for remembrance of bygone days on English 
moors and mountains. 

Entering an amphitheatre of granite cliffs we wound 
steeply down a ledge trail into a canon that trended 
northeasterly. Little pools clear as the very air, and 
pure and fresh as if just poured from a giant pitcher, 
filled all the rocky basins. These Sierra lakes and 
streams give one almost a new conception of water, 
not as something to drink or bathe in, nor as a 
feature of the scenery, but as the very element. It 
seems all but intangible, a mere transparent greyness, 
through which every boulder and splinter of rock on 
the bottom is seen almost more clearly than if there 
were no water there. 

Passing down a rocky defile we dropped by the 
middle of the afternoon into what we guessed to be 
Jack Main Canon, and fording a wide stream just 



THE HIGH SIERRA 233 

below where it bursts from a gap of the mountains, 
went into camp on the farther side with ten or twelve 
miles of tolerably hard trail to our credit. 

I have not been able to discover who Jack Main 
was, but I certainly commend his taste in canons. A 
meadow incredibly flowery shares the valley at this 
point with a goodly river, — the same, as we found 
later, which flows into and out of Vernon Lake, and 
which lower forms the great Hetch-Hetchy Fall. 

At this time, and for many days following, we were 
off the map, and were reduced to the sheerest guess- 
ing with regard to our whereabouts. Many and long 
were the debates around our camp-fires, where three 
distinct opinions usually developed, and were argued 
with all the obstinacy which is apt to mark discus- 
sions none of the parties to which have any real 
knowledge of the question in hand. In general terms, 
our problem was how to reach Soda Springs, some- 
where away to the southeast. We were separated 
from it by a maze of rugged canons, unknown to 
all of us, and all running transversely to our desired 
course. 

The close of these discussions was marked, as re- 
gards our guide, by a docility that was almost child- 
like. He was willing, even eager, to defer to my judg- 
ment. Did I wish to follow this canon farther ? by all 
means we would do so. If I really believed we should 
cross that divide, he was mine to command. It was 
my party. He had told me he did n't know this piece 
of country, but he was my devoted guide, and he and 



234 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

his animals would stay by me. When once he could 
get sight of Mount Conness, however distant, he 
would be able to locate us with ease and to pilot us 
handsomely to Soda Springs. 

We camped among a clump of tamaracks at the 
head of the meadow. For a quarter of a mile below, 
the valley was an unbroken sheet of dwarf lupine, 
and was literally as blue as the sky. Botanists would 
find in these Sierra meadows an amazing revelation 
of Nature's profusion. The wildling flowers stand as 
thickly as the grass of a well-kept lawn, waving in 
unbroken sheets of color from wall to wall of the ca- 
nons and around the margins of unnumbered lakes. 
In years to come pilgrimages of enthusiastic flower- 
lovers will wend to these delightful spots, where now 
only wild bees stagger in orgies of honey, and fairies 
dance by the light of the moon. 

Investigation showed that we had camped better 
than we knew. Only a hundred yards above us was 
a charming little lake which had been hidden from 
us by the screen of trees. On one side it was fringed 
with aspens and firs ; on the other, the rocky wall 
dropped perpendicularly to the glassy water. 

The country about us here was the wildest we had 
yet seen, and considered as a prophecy was highly 
encouraging. Barren mountains rose high and close 
all around us, domed, peaked, ridged, and not even 
alloyed with timber except for the few scarred juni- 
pers that held the ledges, and seemed as old and 
gaunt as the mountains themselves. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 235 

In the evening I climbed to a high point whence I 
looked down upon the lake, lying eclipsed almost as 
if in a well under the shadow of its western clifis, but 
still mirroring the glory of the sunlit peaks in the 
north. Far below, the camp-fire twinkled cheerily. 
The sound of Pet's bell floated musically up to me. 
Bodie, a black speck in the dusk of the valley,',strolled 
down the meadow to review the transport depart- 
ment, and I caught on the breeze a stave of pensive 
sentimentality which seemed to reveal unsuspected 

deeps. 

Slowly the light faded until only one great peak 
was left, shining like a beacon, solitary, white, pyrami- 
dal. As the sky darkened this glowed more brighdy, 
seeming to collect and focus all the remaining light 
in the heavens. Then suddenly the grey shadow 
leaped upon it, and it appeared to sink and crumble 
like a burned-out log. I climbed down and stumbled 
through the darkness back to camp, where I found 
my companions transformed into two mosquito-proof 
bundles, to which I quickly added a third. 

Next morning we marched up the cafion, skirting 
the north shore of the lake. Granite cliffs still walled 
us in, and the trail lay over areas of glacial rock 
over which the river rushed in white cascades down 
a wild and treeless gorge. Little half-acre gardens, 
shoulder high with grasses and flowers, occur even 
in this rough country, providing constantly fresh 
subjects of admiration and delight. By way of con- 
trast I was never tired of noticing the quaint behavior 



236 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

of the junipers that were sparsely dotted about oa 
the ledges of the cation walls. There is a general 
resemblance in their deportment to the accepted por- 
traits of Bluff King Hal, but while some are jovial 
fellows, holding their sides while they guffaw with in- 
extinguishable laughter, others are like vicious Quilps 
and Calibans, sneering and fleering down so sav- 
agely that it is a pleasure to remember that they are 
rooted to their places. 

A few miles and we came to another lake, lying in 
a meadow surrounded by rocky walls, and with a 
fine pyramidal peak at its eastern end. As we reached 
the higher altitudes, the mosquitoes became constantly 
more malicious and diabolical. Here they came at us 
ding-dong, like very Bedouins, biting savagely at 
every exposed part, careless of death so they could 
but once taste our blood. There is a deep pleasure 
in the reflection that untold millions of the creatures in 
these solitudes must live and die with that intolerable 
craving never once gratified. 

The country here was sparsely wooded and the 
trail partly blazed and partly ** monumented." There 
is a humorous disproportion between this high-sound- 
ing word and the frail thing it represents. Two or 
three scraps of rock leaned together or placed one on 
the other to a height of a few inches, or a loose frag- 
ment perched on the top of [a permanent boulder, 
constitute a "monument" in the language of the 
trail. It is by these feeble tokens that the track is 
marked through treeless country and over expanses of 



THE HIGH SIERRA 237 

rock that hold no more sign of having been travelled 
than would a city pavement over which half-a-dozen 
persons a year might pass ; and as they are often so 
far apart as to be hardly visible from one to the next, 
it behooves the traveller ignorant of his way to bear 
a wary eye. At the parting of main trails the monu- 
ment may tower to three or four feet, but in general 
and over wide areas it is " like a tale of little mean- 
ing, tho' the words are strong." 

From time to time I had caught glimpses of the 
great peak which I had watched at sunset. Now, ford- 
ing the creek in rather deep water with a powerful 
current, that threatened for a moment the safety, 
without disturbing the equanimity, of our brave little 
Jenny, we made straight towards it. A white torrent 
came roaring over a clifE-like rise that fronted us, and 
beside this we climbed, the trail ascending like a 
stairway. I fancied that our straining animals eyed 
us indignantly as they clambered from ledge to ledge, 
all but Pet, who strode along as freely as if he were 
on a boulevard. Even here parterres of flowers, mimu- 
lus, pentstemon, and columbine, grew among the 
tumbled rocks, and mats of bryanthus hung in eaves 
over the margin of the stream. 

As we gained the summit of the divide yet another 
lake came in sight, lying against the shoulder of 
the peak we had just rounded. From its shape we 
guessed it to be Tilden Lake, — a winding, river-like 
sheet of water, romantic to a degree, nearly two 
miles long, running in bays and reaches of placid 



238 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

silver between rocky shores. Files and companies of 
hemlock, dark almost to blackness, marched out on 
the promontories and clouded the magnificent sweep 
of the mountain sides. Looking up the lake to the 
northeast, there rose my great mountain, a superb 
shape, massive but symmetrical, beautifully sculp- 
tured with pinnacles and turrets and marbled with 
clots of snow. It was Tower Peak, rising to an alti- 
tude of 11,700 feet, one of the summit crests of this 
part of the Sierra. A littie to the west stood another 
stately mountain, built up in unbroken slopes of 
granite that ridged up to a culminating precipice 
like the climbing surge of an ocean wave. 

Bird-life is scarce in this high region, and I was 
surprised to see two swallows playing over the lake, 
which lies at 9000 feet. [A fine adventurous spirit 
they must have, and a brave spring'of romance there 
must be in their sturdy little hearts, to find out this 
lonely spot for their summer idyll. ** Even thine 
altars," said the Psalmist. Most true. 

In the absence of maps we had no idea how near 
we were at this point to the divide of the Sierra. 
Tower Peak was not more than four miles away in 
an air-line, and on its northern face were the head- 
waters of the Walker River. I had not taken suf- 
ficiently into account the westerly trend of this part 
of the range, and we had all been misled by a pre- 
conception that the run of the canons was more east- 
erly and westerly than in fact it is. 

The lake continued in a chain of smaller lakes, and 



THE HIGH SIERRA 239 

leaving these our trail swung to the south down a 
long, rocky canon. We found ourselves now in a 
perfect maze, marching and countermarching, cross- 
ing divide after divide and creek after creek, until 
about two o'clock, tired, hungry, and puzzled, we 
straggled down a long descent and went into camp 
beside a loquacious stream in a grove of aspen and 
tamarack. 

By the simple mathematical feat of moving the 
decimal point of supper two hours forward we secured 
a long evening of unbroken leisure. O the delight 
of those Sierra evenings I The blessed quietude, that 
lies on you like a soft pressure, and cools like a 
woman's hand ; the hushed talking of the stream as 
it runs around the bend, or laps and drains under 
sodden eaves of moss ; the delicious rose of sunset- 
lighted snow-peaks ; the always friendly companion- 
ship of trees ; the purling soliloquy of the fire ; the 
surprise of the first star, and the wistful magic of 
moonlight ; the pleasant ghosts that sit with you 
around the fire and call you by forgotten nicknames ; 
the old regrets that hold no sorrow; the old joys that 
do ; the good snow-chill of the wind drawing stead- 
ily down the caflon ; the quick undressing and turn- 
ing in, and the instant oblivion — 

— And the ofTensive suddenness of four o'clock 
in the morning, when we got up by half moonlight 
that cast our reluctant shadows on frost-whitened 
ground. Before six o'clock we had forded the river 
and were scaling the southern wall of the cafion, 



240 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

amid a heavy forest of fir, mountain-pine, and hem- 
lock. The divine freshness and zest of the morning 
combined with the genial exhilaration of coffee and 
the cordial of the first pipe to raise our spirits to the 
point of song, and we were not surprised nor yet 
abashed, when Jack for once broke silence and halted 
the cavalcade while he joined our chorus in lugubri- 
ous octaves. 

Crossing the first divide we were in full sight of 
a deeply cleft crest which we took to be the Mat- 
terhorn peaks, but later found was the Sawtooth 
Ridge. We were near enough to them to note the 
terrible precipices that fall from the spiky pinnacles, 
trimmed even now in mid-July with snow-fields. 

The opposite wall of the next cafion rose impos- 
ingly high and sharp, crowned with two dominating 
peaks. At each ridge we hoped to secure an outlook 
to south and east, by which we might gain a rough 
idea of our position from the bearing of the peaks 
of the Cathedral and Lyell groups ; but always the 
high wall closed in our view, and we were fain to 
plunge into the caiions and climb the ridges one by 
one, with very little idea of how many more awaited 
us. 

It was a day of flowers, especially a day of daisies. 
Almost equal to the impression produced by the 
power and magnificence of the mountains them- 
selves was the pleasure I found in the continual 
appearances of these companions of the way. The 
characteristics of climate that render California re- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 241 

markable for her abundance of flowers are not con- 
fined to the valleys of the state, but invade the 
mountains even to the limit of perpetual snow. Nor 
is it only in the forests and mountain meadows that 
the flowers congregate. Every ledge and cranny has 
its bush of pentstemon, or sprinkle of mimulus, or 
waving fringe of daisies. Around each pool and lake 
grow bryanthus and cyclamens, and from the midst 
of uncompromising boulders the great willow-herb 
{Epilobium) bursts in torrents of lively purple. Even 
on wind - scoured pavements the inch - high dwarf 
phlox will contrive to flourish, covering itself with 
pathetically tiny blossoms like pale little faces of 
children. 

A dwarf variety of the manzanita also appeared 
here, blooming at this altitude two months later than 
in the lower valleys. Instead of the strong, elbowy 
shrub of the foothill and Yosemite levels, it is here 
a flat - growing, matted plant, creeping horizontally 
along the ground, its brittle twigs interlaced like a 
basket. Its Greek name of Arctostaphylos matches 
well with the brushy tassels of bloom, that are like 
little classic vases cut in alabaster. 

In the next cafion the trail divided just before 
reaching the stream, and again we were put to guess- 
ing. The usual difference of opinion was in evidence, 
and on Bodie's advice we took the westerly branch, 
which climbed through a gap and rounded a pinna- 
cled peak. Here a cluster of lovely lakelets lay in deep 
pockets of the mountains, ringed with hemlocks. 



242 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

The beauty of these high Alpine lakes is perfect and 
delightful; but awful, too. There is a solemnity in 
their high-raised, unsullied purity and quietude, a 
divine openness like that we see in the faces of chil- 
dren. 

Why does complete beauty, in which there is inno- 
cence, make us sigh ? Is it that we are conscious of 
separation and reproach, and sigh, perhaps, less for 
the innocence that must be than for that which has 
been lost? There is solemnity, too, in the changeless 
passage of Time in these high solitudes. Like per- 
petual flowers these lakes have lain for unmarked 
centuries, giving back blue to the blue heaven or 
whitening to sudden silver as the roaming wind goes 
by. Through innumerable nights the slow courses of 
the stars have passed over the dark crystal of their 
waters. Years go over them like hours, seasons are 
no more than beats of a pendulum. Possibly the whole 
course of human history has run while these unno- 
ticed pools have lain watching the inscrutable sky, 
awaiting the world-changes that to us are science, to 
them, perhaps, life (for how impossible it seems that 
through all the slow birth and growth of human in- 
telligence, age by age, the earth itself should contract 
no consciousness, and suffer only passionless change). 

Circling around the base of the pinnacled monster 
that guards the pass, the trail dropped steeply by a 
wild cailon where the ground was boggy with runnels 
of water from melting snow-banks just above us, and 
entered unexpectedly a dense growth of timber, where 



THE HIGH SIERRA 243 

it was lost among windfallen trees. Casting about for 
it we came upon a larger oval lake, under the east 
shoulder of the mountain. This we found later to be 
Benson Lake, lying at 8000 feet, and the mountain 
Piute Mountain, with an altitude of 10,500 feet ; but 
at the time we knew nothing of names or elevations, 
and every lake was a new surprise, so that our wan- 
derings had almost the zest of original explorations. 
Our geographical senses were exercised continually 
in forecasting the probable run of the streams and 
caiions we encountered ; and we were beginning to 
be occupied also with the question whether our sup- 
plies would hold out until we found the means of 
replenishing them either at Soda Springs or at the 
settlements on Mono Lake. 

Here we pitched camp on a blue carpet of lupines 
and under the lee of a curving beach of white sand. 
This lake is about two hundred acres in extent, en- 
closed on three sides by rocky walls, quite precipitous 
in places and rising to four conspicuous peaks. The 
other side, the northern, is a beach of fine hard sand 
backed by a strip of meadow that merges into dense 
forest. One or two clumps of fir are wedged into 
gorges of the eastern wall, and push down to the wa- 
ter's edge. A stream lively with trout rushes into the 
lake at the east end of the beach, which lies in cres- 
cent bays. A strong breeze blows continually from 
the south, sending the waves lapping noisily up on 
the beach, the wet sand of which bore a remarkable 
collection of autographs in the tracks of bear, deer, 



244 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

and other game, together with those of large wading 
birds. The smaller birds also were more in evidence 
here than we had lately found them, and the place 
seems to have attractions for a variety of creatures 
usually of very different shades of opinion. While we 
sat at supper in the dusk, a heron came sailing above 
our camp and alighted sociably in the top of a small 
tamarack close by, where it remained for some time 
observing our arrangements with interest, and quite 
careless of our notice. 

Sitting on the shore of this delightful lake as night 
came down I revelled in the deep quietude of the 
place, while I watched the wavelets creeping in end- 
less ranks out of the dusk and running playfully at 
my feet like kittens. The tree companies behind me 
seemed to move back and withdraw into the gloom. 
At half-past eight, one peak in the east, a sort of 
prong or tooth of granite, still caught the sun-glow, 
and towered up, a pile of rosy magic, into the clear, 
cold sky of early night. After my companions had 
turned in I sat for an hour or two by the fire, seeing 
again in the embers the long sunlit caiions, the 
grateful shadowy aisles of forest, the daisied mead- 
ows, the headlong cascades, the strong free sweep 
of the granite sea ; and up there, two thousand feet 
overhead, where the bulk of Piute Mountain im- 
pended over me like a cloud, those little lakes, stark 
and open to the cold sky, with the ghostly snow- 
glimmer around them, waiting for the slow dawn of 
another day of the eternal solitude. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 245 

Before I turned in I took another look at the lake. 
The wind had changed to northerly, and the nearer 
half, sheltered by the ridge of sand, reflected placidly 
the surrounding mountains and the diamond glitter 
of the stars. The farther part was a dull gleam of 
steel. The moon was not yet up, but the high western 
peaks were beginning to catch her first light, and 
glimmered from an enhanced height with a look of 
unutterable age. The whisper of the creek pushing 
out into the lake kept all the air quietly athrob. 
Then from far up on the western precipice came the 
sharp report of a falling boulder, pried over by the 
sudden leverage of the frost. The sound grew into a 
hoarse rattle, and then to a thunderous tumult that 
reverberated in the hollow cup of the mountains like 
the roar of a monster trying in vain to escape. Gradu- 
ally it lessened and sank into murmurs and mutter- 
ings, with word-like pauses and replies, dying away 
at last under some black rampart far down the lake. 
Then the singing voice of the creek took up again 
its quiet recitative. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE HIGH SIERRA: LAKE BENSON TO 
LAKE TENAYA 

WE breakfasted next morning by half-moon- 
light, and by six o'clock broke camp. Field 
and I had prospected out the trail, the losing of 
which we nowise regretted, since it had thrown us 
upon this delightful lake, destined, I am sure, to 
become one of the favorite lakes of the Sierra. 

The trail bore at first due east, and we started out 
upon it with confidence, believing that our perplexi- 
ties were over. Fording the stream and crossing a 
low divide, we passed close under a remarkable 
peak, in shape a vast arch topped with a transverse 
elongated dome which terminates in a cliff of not far 
short of a thousand feet. A broad belt of snow lay 
along the foot of the cliff, and below that a huge 
promontory of talus ran off at a keen angle. 

Rounding this mountain, my rose pyramid of last 
night appeared straight ahead. A snow-field lay un- 
der its summit, and from this the water streamed in 
countless rills, falling from slab to slab and filling the 
air with musical murmurs. Along the gullies flowers 
still grew thickly, columbines and larkspurs waving 
above thick beds of bryanthus and purple pentste- 



THE HIGH SIERRA i^j 

mon. This latter is a handsome, generous-looking 
flower, larger but more ethereal than the much-ad- 
mired crimson species of the lower valleys. Daisies 
sprinkled all the grassy hollows, adding a lovable 
grace to the stately gravity of the mountains. 

It was not without a vast amount of grunting and 
complaint on the part of the animals, and several 
repackings, that we reached the top of the pass, for 
the trail^was the steepest we had encountered. In the 
very neck of the pass was a small round lake sur- 
rounded by a meadow of the usual " short - hair " 
grass of high altitudes. It was intensely silent, lonely, 
and desolate. Three plovers were flying to and fro 
over the water, silently playing some ghostly kind of 
game ; the wind silently trembled the brittle heather; 
the sky silently watched the lake, and the lake si- 
lently mirrored back the sky ; the mountains stood 
silently around, pondering and intent. There was 
something spell-like in the absolute soundlessness, as 
though it never had been and never must be broken. 
Even the mosquitoes came silently to the attack, 
rising in grey, imp-like clouds from their ambush in 
the grass, and settling on us in a gloomy, predes- 
tined fashion that was most demoralizing. 

This, as we later found, was Murdock Lake, lying 
at 9500 feet of elevation. At its north side rises a thou- 
sand feet higher my sunset pyramid (Volunteer Peak 
on the map of the Geological Survey). On the other 
side the trees march down to the water's edge, and 
framed between mountain and timber runs the rag- 



248 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

ged line of the Sawtooth Ridge. Field and I climbed 
up on the shoulder of the hill to the west of the lake, 
and obtained, as we expected, a wonderful outlook, 
— an uninterrupted view for many miles of the crest 
of the Sierra, a tumult of peaks and precipices that 
rose and fell with the wild passion of the waves of a 
stormy ocean. The foreground and middle distance 
were a rocking sea of granite, running in abrupt 
points and hollows, and clouded with patches o£ 
forest. 

On leaving the lake at the southeast end, the trail 
divided once more. One branch turned northeasterly, 
the other to the south. Knowing that we were al- 
ready farther to the north of the Tuolumne River 
than we wished to be we took the latter, which we 
followed first down a wooded caiion and then along 
a grassy valley with a pretty, winding stream. I soon 
observed that the trail was making more westerly 
than I liked, but contented myself with keeping a 
look-out for any sign of a cross-trail. Mile after mile 
we went on until we reached the foot of the caiion. 
There the trail, throwing ofF all disguise, turned 
frankly westward and then northwestward, exactly 
contrary to our required direction. Still, with a mis- 
erable perversity which it amuses me now to recall, 
we kept on. It appeared later that we all had been 
possessed by the same insanity, each of us perfectly 
aware that we were heading the wrong way, and 
each doggedly keeping the knowledge in his own 
breast. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 249 

A few miles to the south I could see the precipi- 
tous walls of a gloomy gorge which I felt sure must 
be the cafion of the Tuolumne. I pointed this out to 
my companions, but they were gloomy too, and we 
marched on in devoted obstinacy. Then came a long, 
steep descent, down which we scrambled wearily ; 
and threading our way through a jungle of vegeta- 
tion, found ourselves in a small, aspen-bordered val- 
ley on the margin of a considerable stream spanned 
by a bridge, near which were traces of a recent camp- 
fire. Ignoring the bridge we forded the stream, and 
hastily unpacking our weary beasts went into camp 
once more in No Man's Land. 

We had seen from above that the trail, after cross- 
ing the stream, climbed the steep side of a forested 
mountain on the west. After an hour's rest and a 
light meal Field and I explored this continuation of 
our trail for a mile or two farther, hoping, if not to 
find a cross-trail, at least to get some light on our 
whereabouts. As we gained an outlook to north and 
east we confirmed our suspicions that we had been 
travelling all day nearly in a circle, and that the 
creek we were camped on was none other than the 
one that flowed through Lake Benson. We were 
in fact again on Piute Creek, and only a few miles 
southwest of our last camp. We also suspected that 
the wooded mountain over which the trail continued 
to the southwest was Rancheria Mountain, and we 
knew that if that was so, by following it we should 
certainly find ourselves back in the Hetch-Hetchy. 



250 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Near the summit a new trail led off to the northwest, 
but that promised nothing better than a return to the 
maze of mountains and canons among which we had 
lately been wandering. 

Two or three times in the last few days we had 
come upon scraps of pencilled writing left wedged 
between boulders, or stuck into crevices of the bark 
of trees. They had been sometimes in the nature of 
serio-comic soliloquies, sometimes of complaints or 
disparaging comments upon the topography of the 
country : such as, — 

"What the blazes am I going to do now? H. J." 
; *' Oh, where is the old trail at? H. J." 

" This is something fierce. H. J." 

It was here that we found the last wail of this 
unknown brother in distress. A leaf of a note-book 
was stuck among the stones of the monument that 
marked the fork of the trail, and on it was written, — 

''All in. Can't get through. Going back to the 
valley. H. J." 

With these somewhat gloomy items of intelligence 
we returned to camp. Bodie, with fine recklessness, 
had prepared a thumping dinner, topping off the hot 
bread, steaming murphies, and sustaining beans with 
a fancy course of rice and syrup, in which he had let 
his imagination run to the length of stirring in a 
short dozen of prunes which he had excavated from 
some comer of the grub-pack. Then, in a comforting 
scarcity of mosquitoes, we made a noble camp-fire, 
discussed the situation, and determined that we must 



THE HIGH SIERRA 251 

retrace our steps in the morning and hunt out the 
easterly trail which we had somehow missed. 

It was not without disgust that we started next day 
on our back -trail. Breakfast had revealed the fact 
that it was becoming a matter of urgency for us to 
make Soda Springs quickly. Our last potato stared 
us rudely in the face, and Bodie reported flour for 
only two more loaves. We looked carefully as we 
went along for any indication of a cross-trail. The 
scanty timber was all tamarack, a tree which, with 
its thin bark and excessive resin, is a simple one to 
blaze, but also easily becomes a snare to the travel- 
ler, since any scar made by falling trees or branches 
quickly fills with resin and is then difficult to distm- 
guish from an orthodox blaze. 

Coming nearly to the head of the long valley we 
found a distinct blaze marked on a tamarack on the 
farther side of the creek. This, then, was our clue ; 
but a huge barricade of windfallen timber had wiped 
out every other trace of a trail. For an hour or more 
we worked like foxhounds at this problem, feeling 
sure that we were on the right track, but unable to pick 
up the trail beyond the windfall. At last Bodie, skir- 
mishing far ahead on Pet, struck faint signs of an old 
track, more like a deer-trail than anything else, and 
we took to it with some misgivings. It headed up 
by the south side of our pyramid, passing close be- 
side and around it. I now observed that the upper 
one thousand feet or so is built of thin perpendicular 
slabs, regular in size, and squared as if cut by a 



252 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

mason ; the same formation, I suspect, as is found in 
the so-called Devil's Post-piles. The top slabs had 
weathered apart, and some of them were leaning 
outwards ready to fall and add to the vast accumu- 
lation of debris at the foot. 

Crossing a snow-bank we came upon another charm- 
ing Alpine lake, narrow and winding, and dotted 
with rocky islets. Dark-foliaged pines stood about 
the margin, and on the south towered a great moun- 
tain, its rifted seams and gleaming snow-fields re- 
flected deeply on a surface like liquid steel. It was 
Rodgers Lake, lying at an altitude of 9500 feet : a 
true Sierra lake, lost and inviolate among a wilder- 
ness of stately peaks. It stands high on my mental 
list of the places I hope to revisit. 

The trail leaves the lake at its northern end and 
enters an amphitheatre of granite cliffs. The ground 
was soaked with snow-water that trickled down on 
every side, and some care was necessary to avoid 
getting our animals mired down. Then came another 
lake (Smedberg), hardly less delightful than the last. 
In the meadow surrounding it a few long-stemmed 
buttercups greeted us, though the lupines were not 
even yet in bloom. Here we ate a frugal lunch, drink- 
ing from the drip of a friendly snow-bank. 

The scenery here is of the wildest, the very scrap- 
pile of Nature. Even the trees are of strange and 
painful shapes, a few dressed scantily with shivering 
scraps of foliage, but for the most part barkless, 
white, and polished like bone by scouring storms. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 253 

Their appearance would call up one's pity, but that 
they are pines ; sympathy for that royal race seems 
a superfluous impertinence. 

As we rose from our meal I became aware that a 
group of five buck, with horns in velvet, had been 
standing overlooking us from a rock hardly fifty feet 
above where we sat. There was the click of twenty 
hoofs on the granite, and in a moment they had 
vanished ** into air, into thin air." 

A few miles more of strenuous climbing, and we 
crossed the high divide of Benson Pass at 10,130 
feet. There occurs here a curious ridge of loose white 
sand, the result, I suppose, of an extreme degree of 
disintegration due to unusual stress of weather in this 
bleak pass. Once more we looked out upon a sea of 
mountains, no whit less rugged and intricate than 
those we had threaded. The air rang with the metal- 
lic tinkle of a thousand rills that streamed from the 
snow-fields around us. A curious effect is produced 
by the melting of the surfaces of evenly sloping sheets 
of snow under the direct rays of the sun. The crust, 
harrowed by the constant trickling of water, appears 
as though a fine comb had been drawn over it, the 
myriad channels all maintaining a perfectly parallel 
alignment. 

Turning then southeasterly we entered a narrow, 
bouldery gorge with high, snow-laced cliffs on our 
right, somewhat lower barren ones on the left, and 
a bold white ridge barricading us in front. Isolated 
pillars of rock of grotesque shapes rose from the 



254 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

sandy floor of the canon, which from its peculiar 
character we hoped might be Alkali Creek Cafion, 
debouching upon the Tuolumne River a few miles 
below Soda Springs. But at the foot the trail swung 
again to the north, and we had no choice but to go 
on, anxiously scanning the east side of the cailon for 
a cross-trail. At last we espied the blaze on the far- 
ther side of the creek, forded, and with fresh heart 
struck once more southerly. 

But another disappointment awaited us. After 
climbing a steep ridge the trail headed again north- 
east, dropped into yet another cailon, and crossed 
another divide. Mile after mile and hour after hour 
passed in this puzzling work. We were making east, 
certainly, which was so far to the good, but north- 
ing also, which was entirely to the bad. So on we 
marched, fording creek after creek, crossing ridge 
after ridge, hemlocks giving place to tamaracks and 
tamaracks to hemlocks as we wandered up and 
down. 

About sundown we emerged in a new cafion with 
a wide, strong stream, and, completely tired out, de- 
termined to camp, leaving to-morrow or some later 
to-morrow to solve the riddle. We had been twelve 
hours out, on the very roughest trails in the moun- 
tains, and had eaten hardly anything since five o'clock 
that morning. 

A supper of flapjacks (no longer, alas, " men^s 
sizes," — 2,jeu d'' esprit of our good Bodie by which 
he was wont to designate the plump " jacks " that he 



THE HIGH SIERRA 255 

delighted to deal out to us in times of plenty), and a 
grateful pot of tea brought us quickly refreshment of 
body, and, more gradually, peace of spirit. A miser- 
ably cold wind blew strongly down the cafion, but 
not strongly enough to quiet the mosquitoes. Light- 
ing a trio of smudges we spread our blankets be- 
tween them and turned in, still out of our reckoning, 
but somewhere in the United States, as we supposed. 

We were astir at dawn, — by this time a matter of 
habit, — and made a leisurely breakfast. Since we 
did not know where we were, nor yet where we were 
going, it seemed superfluous to hurry. Moreover, 
there was a feeling in the air that to-day would al- 
most certainly bring us into the neighborhood of 
Soda Springs and fresh supplies. At the lowest com- 
putation, the distance we had made must have put 
us well into the angle that is formed, roughly speak- 
ing, by the main crest of the Sierra and the Tuo- 
lumne River. Still, it was a solemn moment when we 
saw Bodie convert the last of our flour into the morn- 
ing flapjacks, and we gazed upon each spreading 
disk with some emotion. 

Again we betook ourselves to our eternal cafions, 
ridges, and divides. The trail led through a dim for- 
est of hemlock and fir, where mats of the dwarf blue 
lupine in the openings gave back the hue of the 
sky in almost solid sheets of color. In damper places 
the giant variety grew to a remarkable size, waving 
heavy clusters of blossoms head high to the animals. 
Here I noticed the first appearance of a new kind of 



256 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

heather, which I identified as the Cassiope to which 
Mr. Muir refers so often and so lovingly. It is a 
delightful plant, graceful and delicate, yet with the 
sturdy demeanor of the mountaineer. The blossom 
is a white bell, borne in clusters in heather fashion, 
but larger and rather more open than the Erica of 
Bonnie Scotland. My much loved daisies grew pros- 
perously in every glade and meadowlet, enchaining 
my affections daily more and more by their air of 
high-bred simplicity. 

To our great comfort the trail, after traversing a 
succession of open meadows strewn with boulders, 
headed straight southeastward, and persevered in 
that direction, following a long, straight cafion. Re- 
membering the past, we held our spirits in check 
until, after some miles of steady marching, we came 
in sight of a group of splintery peaks with a quaint, 
pencil-pointed horn beside them. We recognized 
them at once as the Cathedral and Unicorn peaks, 
and knew that Soda Springs, the much desired, the 
necessary in fact, lay a few miles on their hither 
side. 

With light hearts we pushed on down a gentle 
slope, and about noon arrived at the foot of the 
cailon. Crossing a trouty stream, another mile 
brought us to the Tuolumne River at a point where 
there occurs a wide fall known as the White Rapids, 
— the first of a succession of falls and cascades by 
which the river begins to drop from the high levels 
of its upper course to enter the great gorge which 



THE HIGH SIERRA 257 

widens lower down into the Hetch-Hetchy Valley. 
Here Bodie was himself again, and willingly resumed 
his abrogated functions. 

Now that Soda Springs was within reach I was in 
no hurry to get there. I loved it not for itself but for 
the supplies it afforded ; and in any case we should 
have to pass through the Tuolumne Meadows in 
order to reach Bloody Cailon, the pass by which we 
intended to cross to the eastern side of the Sierra. 
But we were here within a few miles of Tenaya Lake, 
one of the most renowned, because one of the few 
visited, lakes of the Sierra. So while Bodie with 
Clementine rode to the Springs, a few miles to the 
east, Field and I forded the river below the rapids 
and struck into a southwest trail for the lake, where 
Bodie was to rejoin us. 

A change came over the scenery at this point by 
which we might have guessed, if we had not known, 
that we were not far from the Yosemite. In the six- 
teen days we had been out we had described what 
amounted in effect to a circle (though of a highly 
irregular kind), of which the Yosemite might be re- 
garded as a narrow southern chord. We entered 
now upon domes and swelling contours, imposing in 
their gravity of line, though far less stimulating to 
the fancy than the wilder peaks among which we 
had been wandering. To a geologist no doubt every 
half-mile of all this cliff and cafion would be as a 
page of a book. I only see the vast aspects, and 
wonder at the finished product. 



258 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

It is an overwhelming thought that in the view of 
Him to whom " one day is as a thousand years, and 
a thousand years as one day," the age-long processes 
of Nature may appear but momentary. How sublime 
would be the spectacle, so regarded, of the tremen- 
dous plane of ice, shearing with irresistible sweep 
these knotted mountains, and casting off to right and 
left like shavings the forest-bearing moraines I 

A mile after crossing the river the trail skirted a 
narrow lake, of a peculiar greenish hue, named after 
some forgotten scion of the tribe of McGee. Then 
for some miles we traversed a rough tract of country 
where huge boulders powdered a granite plateau, 
mixed with a thin tamarack forest which in some mi- 
raculous manner has secured a foothold and forces a 
subsistence from this unpromising inheritance. 

I was much entertained by the sagacious behavior 
of Pet, whom in Bodie's absence I was riding in 
place of my regular mount. Field was in the lead 
on the black mule, who was usually assigned to that 
post for his virtues as a trail-finder, — his only, but 
admirable, characteristic. Following him came Jack 
and Jenny. Probably Jack noticed that Bodie was 
away, and presumed upon my milder rule ; anyhow, 
he was particularly disagreeable, and pointedly re- 
fused to keep in the trail. Contumacy was in the 
very flop of his ears. After I had headed him off 
several times he became violently angry, and re- 
venged himself by charging about among the trees 
and rocks with the plain intention of doing as much 



THE HIGH SIERRA 259 

damage as he could to his packs. It was deliberate 
malice, and I rope-ended him accordingly. ' 

Pet, who at every opportunity asserted his superi- 
ority to his four-footed companions by ranging him- 
self with the bipeds, entered into the quarrel with 
great enjoyment. With tail switching he closed up 
on the recalcitrant burro, almost treading on his 
heels, and harassing him by biting him on the 
flanks : all the while keeping a sharp eye on his 
heels, you may be sure. Whenever the miserable 
jack, wrought to a pitch of frenzy, bolted from the 
trail, Pet would toss his head with malicious de- 
light, gather himself for a jump, and waltz over the 
obstructions in the gayest of spirits, appearing un- 
expectedly before the enraged animal whichever 
way he turned, and crowding him backwards with 
his neck twisted almost to the point of dislocation. 
All that I had to do was to attend to the protuber- 
ant parts of my body, ducking my head to avoid 
branches and shielding my knees as best I could 
from contact with the huge boulders. It was as good 
as polo, but it was hard on the packs. The sinkienon, 
bound h, la Mazeppa, and wedged between the horns 
of the pack-saddle, rode out the storm in safety, and 
the photographic plates, packed in strong wooden 
boxes, also came through undamaged ; but the 
weaker brethren suffered some contusions, and the 
coffee-pot sustained a compound fracture of the han- 
dle, necessitating amputation. 

Jenny's behavior was correct and ladylike as ever. 



26o YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Her place in the line was always following Jack, and 
I believe the meek little thing had a real feeling of 
loyalty to him. Whenever he became obstreperous 
she would turn off the trail after him for a few paces 
and then stand looking on with cocked ears, and an 
embarrassed expression like a third party at a quar- 
rel. Once when I had to make a long detour in 
heading Jack into the trail, we had gone on for some 
distance before I noticed that Jenny was missing. I 
rode back half a mile, and was beginning to think 
I had missed her when I caught sight of her stand- 
ing on a big boulder upon which she had scrambled, 
certainly with some difficulty, in order, I suppose, to 
be in plain view. She was patiently waiting to be 
called for. 

As we neared Lake Tenaya the mountains showed 
more and more the capped and plated formation that 
is so noticeable in the domes of the great valley. 
The '*monumented" trail passed over wide expanses 
of glacier-polished rock that glittered like glass and 
reflected the sunlight and the heat into our faces with 
unpleasant ardor. It was a relief to see the glint of 
blue water between the tree-stems, and shortly we 
emerged at the lake side. Following the edge of the 
lake to its northern end, we made camp in a thin 
grove of pines that fringed a meadow, and had 
hardly got things shipshape when Bodie appeared. 
He had made a quick trip of several miles more than 
we had covered, and had secured the needed sup- 
plies : not much, nor luxuries, but enough to restore 



THE HIGH SIERRA 261 

the valuable flapjack to the bill of fare, together with 
sundry other items which had passed into history. 

Lake Tenaya is one of the largest and most acces- 
sible of the Sierra lakes, and its repute stands high 
for beauty. Certainly it is a lovely sheet of water, 
clear as the element can be, and surrounded by fine, 
and at one end striking, mountains. Directly from its 
eastern side Mount Tenaya towers up two thousand 
feet above the lake, whose altitude is 8100 feet. To 
the northwest, a smoothly sculptured mountain of 
granite called Murphy's Dome sweeps up to almost 
an equal height. Between them, at the head of the 
meadow, stands a quaint little truncated cone some 
eight hundred feet in height, shaped like a fez, or a 
candle extinguisher. A winding creek steals through 
the meadow, carrying the water of Cathedral Lake. 
Farther to the west Mount Hoffman rises magnifi- 
cently to close upon 1 1,000 feet, and almost due south, 
and only five miles away in an air-line. Clouds' Rest 
marks the eastern end of the Yosemite Valley. From 
the lower end of the lake issues Tenaya Creek, the 
stream which as it enters the valley widens into the 
pretty pool that is dignified with the name of Mirror 
Lake, and which joins the Merced River at the upper 
end of the valley itself. 

With all my admiration of Lake Tenaya, however, 
I invite the appreciative tourist who may visit its 
charming shores to believe that along the almost 
unvisited High Sierra there lie scores of lakes equally 
or more delightful. I do not forget that tastes in 



262 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

scenery differ, but I think that the genius of a lake, 
unlike that of a river, accords best with the wild and 
desolate aspects of Nature. It is quietude embodied, 
and the voiceless solitudes of the upper world of 
barren peak, high thin air, and stainless snow-field 
are best suited to its lonely spirit. So I can hardly 
believe that any lake -lover would not agree that 
those lost, solitary, created-and-forsaken pools of si- 
lent loveliness, hidden away among the crags and 
fastnesses of the high back ranges, exceed in true 
lake charm even this handsome sheet of more ac- 
cessible water. 

To-morrow would be Sunday, so we should not 
move camp. Field, nevertheless, turned in early, with 
a sunrise picture on his brain. Bodie soon followed, 
soothed by the knowledge of being again in his own 
territory, and of grub-packs replenished to a point 
which would carry us safely to Mono Lake, where 
there are stores and civilization, of a kind. I for my 
part sat by the hour at the camp-fire after the last 
mosquito had retired, watching in the still mirror of 
the water the heavens and the earth gazing at one 
another, like lovers entranced. Every star was dupli- 
cated, and breathed with the breathing of the lake. 
The Milky Way was reflected in a dull smear of 
grey. The mountains merged and ran into grotesque 
shapes ; at the lower end they became alligators, 
lying snout to snout. Once the silence was broken 
when a grouse drummed on the mountain side : I 
imagined him gazing in sleepy wonder from his 



THE HIGH SIERRA 263 

roost at the red fire with its winking double in the 
water. 

I walked around the little bay on the white, 
crunching sand, to note for myself the impressionist 
effect, and found it rather fine : — red, yellow, black, 
and grey, with murky brown lights on the under side 
of the smoke that trailed away over the lake. It was 
very quiet, and Nature was very big. It seemed an 
impertinence for man to light his puny picket-fires 
on her frontier. Pale sheet lightning began to play, 
flickering over the great mountain opposite like fire- 
light dancing on the walls of a room. It reminded 
me of how I used to think, as a child, that when I 
was rich and grown-up (the same thing), I would al- 
ways have a fire in my bedroom to lie and look at. 
For once, at least, I had two ; and luxuriously I 
threw on another log to make a blaze to undress by. 
It is even so that many of our childish dreams come 
true, — with a difference. 



CHAPTER XVI 

BODIE : " WELL, SIR — " 

THE town of Bodie, — or is it, perchance, a 
" city '* ? — lying a score of miles to the north 
of Mono Lake, was in its earlier days a place of 
ferociously bad repute. Although, so far as I am 
aware, Bret Harte does not mention it, his genial 
ruffians must have known it well. But in these dull 
times, when not only law but order reigns over 
the Sierra, the place subsists, so far as pungency of 
reputation is concerned, upon its past ; the real has 
toned into the realistic; and bad men are spelled 
with capital letters in a poor attempt to revive the 
glories of the past. 

Some local patriot with a fancy for alliteration, 
bent upon retarding in this case the obliterating pro- 
cess, has promulgated a legend of a " Bad Man from 
Bodie with a Butcher-knife in his Boot." I had been 
entertained with this epic, and when I encountered 
an individual who actually bore the name of the re- 
probate town I was naturally interested, and my 
eyes sought his boots in an endeavor to identify him 
with the Bodie " of that ilk." A very short acquaint- 
ance showed, however, that in his case the badness 
and the butcher -knife were mere pleasantries of 



BODIE: "WELL, SIR — " 265 

speech, and fuller knowledge resulted in a sincere 
liking which the critical intimacy of camp-life has 
confirmed, and cemented with respect. 

I think it was when we were camped in the Till- 
till that, glancing over one Sunday morning about 
five o'clock to Bodie's sleeping - place, I saw the 
smoke of reverie already ascending from his placid 
form. It came out in subsequent conversation that 
he had been engaged in benevolent reflections upon 
how he would like to *' dump a thousand or more of 
them young monkeys out of the Bowery and them 
places down in a medder like this here, kind of on a 
suddent, so's they wouldn't know it was coming. 
And, say, how 'd it be to put in a bunch of milk cows, 
and a band of burros for 'em to ride ? Whoopee ! " 

It appeared from occasional similar remarks that 
the Bad Man's thoughts somewhat frequendy took 
this peculiar range when they were for a time re- 
leased from the cares of his profession. To a remark 
bearing upon the beauty of the scenery or the wea- 
ther, or the goodness of the water or the beans, this 
sympathetic human chord, or vox humana, in him 
never failed to respond, though in an oblique and 
apologetic manner. Once, indeed, he recounted to 
Field and myself an instance of practical philan- 
thropy on his part, discounting it at the start by giv- 
ing us to understand that it was only a sporadic out- 
break. 

Grasshoppers were under discussion in some con- 
nection. '' Well, sir," Bodie remarked, " there 's one 



266 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

good act, as you might say, that I did once in my 
life, and them insects remind me of it: though I 
don't blow about it, you understand." Being assured 
that we understood, and urged to relate the particu- 
lars of this solitary episode, he continued : — 

** It was when I was up in Montana, in the Big 
Hole River country, along in the eighties. I had 
quite a little bunch of cattle in them days, and it so 
happened I had four or five cows come fresh along 
about together, and of course the calves was little 
and could n't take near all the milk, so I had a heap 
more than I could get away with ; that is, until the 
calves should grow bigger. I used to take and milk 
them cows on to the ground, for to free them of the 
milk they carried that would have hurt them. Many 's 
the gallon of good milk I 've seen run away down 
them prairie-dogs' holes : it was sure a bonanza for 
them little cusses, unless some of them got drownded 
out. 

" It happened one day, branding, I threw a steer 
kind of awkward so he broke a leg, and of course I 
had to butcher him. Well, sir, that day, or the next, 
— I forget which and it don't matter, — along comes 
a family that was in mighty bad shape. They was 
driving, of course, and the whole outfit was as poor 
and peakied and pitiful as ever you see. There was 
seven of them, father and mother and three girls, all 
well' growed, and two younger boys, and they was 
all thin, and dirty, and their clothes was all dirty and 
tore. Say, d' you ever notice that people what 's dirty 



BODIE: "WELL, SIR — " 267 

is generally thin ? I don't say always, mind you, but 
generally. Well, that 's the way these people was. 
Good people, too, they was, honest and decent : aye, 
and the man he told me, — and I believe it, too, — 
that two years before he would n't have took twenty- 
five thousand dollars for his holdings, away down in 
Kansas somewhere. Them grasshoppers had done 
him up. Two years running they came, and they 
cleaned him out like a tenderfoot in a 'Frisco poker- 
joint. 

A " Well, sir, the whole family was moving along, 
going anywhere to get out of that country ; and if 
you '11 believe me, they was bringing along with them 
an old runt of a cow that was poor as sin, like the 
rest of them, and give no more milk than what you 
could milk into that lard-pail over there, the little 
one. They had that and they had some com meal, 
and that was dead plumb all them people had to eat ; 
literally nothing else on earth did they have. And 
their horses was poor, and the old wagon squeaked, 
and they was all naturally broke up. 

" Well, sir, I see this outfit coming along, and I 
calls out to them and asks them where they come 
from and where was they going ; and they up and 
tells me the whole rigamaree. So I says to them, 
'Turn in right here,' I says, 'and bring your horse- 
pail, and here's another horse-pail of mine, and 
them young women had best go over and milk 
them heifers over there. And,' I says, *I killed a 
beef yesterday, and you can take all you want of 



268 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the meat, for there 's a heap more 'n I can begin 
to use.' Well, sir, say, you 'd ought to have seen 
that outfit ; it did me good to see 'em get busy. They 
stayed by me and camped four or five days, and 
washed up, and mended up, and heartened up, and 
filled up, — say, I wish't I'd thought to have mea- 
sured them : it was sure wonderful how they fattened 
on that range. 

" And then it come to be, what was they going to 
do next ? Well, sir, right then I thought of old John 
Goldfinch, that lived away down thirty or forty miles. 
He was an Englishman, and a good, straight, square 
man as ever I see, and I knew him well. He had 
two ranches, John had, with houses and barns on 
them, and all a man would want ; and I says to this 
outfit, * Go over to old John Goldfinch,' I says, * and 
you tell him just what you told me, and tell him I 
told you to tell it to him, and he '11 sure help you out.' 
And so they did ; and John, he says to the man, 
*Why, you're the blooming feller I 'm looking for' : 
and he puts them in one of them houses, and gives 
the man and the oldest boy a contrack right off for 
a thousand of poles he wanted cut up in the hills, 
and grub-staked them, and started them farming on 
shares. 

" Well, sir, I was over that way a year or so after, 
to old John's. I 'd forgot all about them people ; 
never give 'em another thought. There was a girl 
about the yard, and when I looked at her I kind of 
thought I 'd seen her face somewheres before, but I 



BODIE: *'WELL, SIR — " 269 

could n't just place her. And then she goes in, and 
out comes a woman and another girl. It was them 
same people, clean, tidy, prosperous, and smiling all 
over their faces and round to their backs with good 
living and kind feelings. They knew me, and say, 
maybe you think they was n't glad to see me. Why, 
that man, he said he 'd struck luck right from the 
time they'd met me, d' you believe it? He'd had 
good crops, and potatoes was worth ten and twelve 
and a half cents a pound that year, paid right there 
at his own dooryard. And flour was twenty dollars 
a hundred then, too, and he'd got potatoes and 
flour to sell, and a plenty to eat besides. And that 
old cow, say, she 'd have took a prize ; she was a 
Holstein, and milked like an artesian well as long 
as she got her wages. And that 's how it was with 
them ; I had to go over and eat supper with them 
that night, and they gave me the whole song and 
dance. 

" Durn them mules, I hain't heard the bell for half 
an hour. If they 'd get headed up the trail we 'd be 
in a divvle of a fix." 

The native modesty of this ministering angel for- 
bade, except in this instance, his relating any incident 
that threatened to reflect credit, even indirectly, upon 
himself. But his occupation for many years as a 
*' packer" on the mountain trails had often brought 
him across the tracks of those historic bears of the 
Sierra, some of whom were known not only by sight 
but by name to the exasperated sheep-men whose 



270 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

mutton they slew and whose rifles they held in 
disdain. 

" Well, sir," he remarked one day when the de- 
generacy of the present muttonless race of Yosemite 
bears was under discussion, — " well, sir, I remem- 
ber when there was sure -enough bears in these 
mountains : bears I mean, not woodchucks. Once 
down in Kern County, in San Emigdio Cafion I 
think it was, twelve or fifteen years ago, I was pack- 
ing for some sheep-men ; that is, carrying the sup- 
plies for the herders' camps. There was a Mexican 
herding a band of sheep at a dry camp, — good feed 
but no water. We wanted to use that mountain for 
the feed while it was green, on account that sheep 
don't need water so long as there 's good green feed. 
The herder kicked about the bears bothering him a 
whole lot : he said they got in the corral 'most every 
night, and killed his sheep and scattered the band. 
It made it hard for him, you understand, for it would 
take him all day to get the sheep together again, 
and then he could n't be sure that he got them all. 

" So one day he says to me, * You 've got to give 
me a man to help me as long as I 'm on this moun- 
tain, or else I '11 have to be moved to some other 
place.' Well, sir, it happened an Irishman comes 
along. He had n't never herded sheep before, but I 
took him to the camp anyway, more to make com- 
pany for the Mexican than for any good he 'd be with 
the sheep. 

"That same night a she-cinnamon comes into 



BODIE: *'WELL, SIR — " 271 

camp with two cubs about half-grown. The Mexican 
had got his bed by an old pine tree that was broke 
down : he 'd built him a rail platform out from the 
tree, and he slept on top of that, not to be bothered 
by the sheep and skunks. I don't know where the 
green Irishman was sleeping, but it was somewhere 
close by. Anyway, the herder's dog runs out at the 
bear, and she chases him back into camp, pronto. 
Then the dog runs under the bed to get out of the 
bear's way, and the bear goes after him ; but there 
was n't near room enough under there for a bear and 
dog fight, so the bear she just took and fired the bed 
and the man and the whole shooting-match up in the 
air, and scattered them all over the ground. Then 
she began slapping and cuffing at the man, like it 
was a prize fight, but the greaser was on to bears, 
and he sabed enough to cover up his head and 
make out he was dead. 

\ "While all this was going on the Irish runs up to 
where there was a big pine tree, about four foot 
thick, and begins grabbing and hugging at it, trying 
to climb up out of the way. It would n't have helped 
him any if he could, for that matter, because a bear 
will climb a big tree, though he can't climb a little 
one. But the Irish didn't know nothing about bears, 
except he knew he hated to be eat up by them. The 
Mexican he calls out, * Throw some fire at her; 
throw some fire at her, why don't you?' But the 
Irish was busy trying to skin up the tree about then, 
and he calls back, * I' 11 not do it : I'm a-doing well 



272 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

enough where I am.* By that time the bear had gone 
back to where the cubs was. They was acting kind 
of dazed with the excitement, and the old bear cuffs 
them and hustles them to make them run away ; 
that 's how they do ; and then they all skinned out. 
'* Well, sir, next morning I was eating my break- 
fast at my own camp down in the lower canon, and 
I see a man coming down to the meadow. He was 
coming down a big high mountain, and making fast 
time. * Hullo ! ' I says, it being the Irishman, with his 
blankets on his back : * Hullo, where are you going ? ' 

* Going? ' says he, * I 'm going back to where I come 
from, that 's where I 'm going. I would n't stay up 
on that mountain not if you was to give me the 
whole Kern County. Why, there was four big 
bears come in there last night and chewed the greaser. 
No, I don't want no breakfast,' says he ; * how far 
is it in to Bakersfield, that 's what I want to know?* 

* Sixty-five miles and better,' I says. ' So long,' says 
he, and off he goes on a two-twenty gait. 

*' I was in Bakersfield myself, a day or two after, 
and, say, that Irishman had sure enough got in there 
the same night when I saw him in the morning. He 'd 
walked forty miles, and a rancher with a wagon had 
give him a lift the last twenty-five. 

*' Anyway, I never knew an Irishman have any 
luck herding sheep, or killing bear either. There was 
Johnny O'Donnell, up in the Big Hole country; a 
bear had got into his corral one night, and picked up 
a hog that must have weighed all of two hundred, 



BODIE: **WELL, SIR — " 273 

and hopped out again and never so much as knocked 
a rail off. So Johnny baited for him the next night 
with another hog, and he dumb up into a big tree 
right over the corral to get the bear. 

** Well, he waited and waited. It was pretty quiet 
and lonesome, and after a while what does he do but 
go to sleep, up there in the tree. Well, the ^bear come, 
sure enough, and Johnny he wakes up sudden and 
scairt, and falls down out of the blame tree and breaks 
his arm, and the gun, too. The wonder is he did n't 
shoot himself instead of the bear ; that would have been 
the real Irish of it, to a finish. But he did n't, and he 
scared the bear and saved his bacon all right, and 
Johnny and me used up the hog that he had baited 
with. 

** But you 'd never believe how plenty they used to 
be, specially down lower in the sheep country. There 
was a man down there I knew that killed five one 
night. He was another Mexican, too. It was down on 
the old Tejon Grant, and he was always complaining 
to the foreman about the bears coming into the corral 
every night, killing his sheep and crippling and 
wounding them. You see, it is n't only what they kill 
first-hand, as you might say, but the sheep get scared 
and stampede, and pile up and suffocate against the 
corral, like I 've heard people will do at a theatre fire. 

** Well, the foreman fixed him up with a rifle and 
about fifty rounds of cartridge. He had got his bed 
set up on four posts in the middle of the corral, about 
ten feet clear of the ground. That 's the way herders 



274 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

mostly do, and it 's a good way, too. I never have no 
use for skunks, and they are always plenty around 
sheep-camps. This herder had got his bed up extra 
high just on account of the bears, they was so an- 
noying. 

'* Along about eleven or twelve o'clock, — moon- 
light it was, and clear, — a bear hops into the corral, 
and he ups with his gun and he hits him the first shot 
and wounds him. The bear rolls over and commences 
to holler and scream outrageous. Then another bear 
jumps over to see what all this hollering was about, 
and the Mexican lets drive again and gets him : that 
was number two. About that time number three hap- 
pens along, and he plugs him. Then along comes 
number four and passes in his checks, and pretty 
soon number five chips in and cashes his. 

** The Mex. had been doing considerable shooting, 
on account he'd plugged them half-a-dozen shots 
apiece all around, so as not to make no miscue when 
he got down on the ground. His ammunition was 
pretty near gone, and he could n't tell but what there 
was more bears out on the warpath looking for a 
scrap. So he waited for half an hour or an hour, 
maybe, but no more bears come along ; and he climbs 
down at last, pretty much excited, and without so 
much as waiting to put his boots on he starts down to 
the ranch-house, three miles away, and wakes up all 
the men on the ranch and tells them what he 'd done. 

"Of course they all thought he was lying; but 
young Neale (that was the son of one of the owners 



BODIE: "WELL, SIR — " 275 

of the ranch), him and some more of the men con- 
cluded to go up and find out how much of a liar he 
was. So they went and looked, and sure enough there 
was the five bears dead in the corral, and as many as a 
dozen or fourteen sheep lying around trampled and 
suffocated. 

" I knew young Neale myself, and he gave me the 
straight story, so I know it 's a fact. 

'* One other time down in Kern I had planted a 
herder in a new camp. That afternoon he butchered 
a sheep at the foot of a tree and hung the carcass up 
to one of the limbs. His camp was made at the foot 
of this same tree, and he meant to come along next 
day and get part of the mutton. Well, sir, along in 
the night in come three good-sized bears into camp, 
and commenced chewing up the sheep. The herder, 
(an old man he was), and his dog ran out at them, 
thinking in the dark they was cattle ; but he soon 
sees his mistake when one of the bears hits the dog 
a lick and breaks his leg. 

"There was a little table arrangement at the foot 
of the tree, built out of small logs. It might have 
been twenty feet from the table up to the first limb, 
that the meat was hung from, and the old fellow 
jumps up on the table and catches hold of the tree 
and the rope both, and climbs up in his night-clothes. 
The wind was blowing hard, and it was bitter cold, 
near freezing. But there he was, and there he stayed, 
shivering with the scare and the cold till them three 
bears made a clean-up and vamoosed. Then he 



276 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

comes down and builds three or four big fires to 
warm himself and keep the bears away. That day 
he built him a crow's-nest in a live-oak, about fifteen 
feet up from the ground, and after that he used to 
sleep there as long as he stayed. 

" The next year it happened I had to plant another 
herder with a band of sheep in that same camp. He 
was a French boy, and a greenhorn, just out from 
the old country: didn't speak a word of English 
even. He 'd butchered a sheep and it was hanging 
from this same crow's-nest in the live-oak, and the 
boy was sleeping there too, like the old man used to. 
The mutton was hanging maybe eight feet clear of 
the ground. 

** Well, the first or second night an immense big 
grizzly jumps the corral and first of all eats up the 
offal. Then he stands up on his hind feet and com- 
mences on the carcass, and eats off the head and 
neck and the fore-shoulders, clear up to the liver. 
The boy was all the time lying in bed, five feet or so 
above the bear, watching him chew the mutton. I 
guess the bear did n't see the boy ; if he did he 
did n't take any stock in him, and the boy laid there 
mighty quiet and still, you bet. Anyway, there was 
the big grizzly so close he could pretty near touch 
him, chewing away and cracking the bones like they 
was walnut shells. When he gets through he walks 
off, and leaves the other half of the carcass hanging. 
I tell you that was a pretty badly scared boy, and 
him a parlyvoo and a greenhorn, too. 



BODIE: "WELL, SIR — " 277 

" Well, sir, I was past there that day to see how 
the new boy was making out, and he showed me the 
half mutton all chewed up, and tried to tell me about 
it. He was so excited I could n't make out much of 
what he said, but it was all * Voiirs ' over and over, and 
I knew a littie French from being Canadian. Any- 
way I could easy see what his trouble was. I knew 
the bear would surely come back that night to finish 
the mutton ; so I got two other men with me, with 
rifles, and we went over to the camp and built an- 
other crow's-nest about thirty yards away. 

" About dark we got up in the tree. I had fixed it 
that we would all shoot at the same time, and I was 
to give the word. The boy was down at a litde 
spring to get a pail of water while the daylight lasted, 
when along comes the bear. The boy hollers in 
French, * Voilct Vours qui vient I ' and the bear raises 
up and looks ugly at him. At that I gave the word 
and the three rifles popped all together. The bear 
fell over, and the boy lit out lively for his tree. No, 
he was n't carrying no water-pail. 

"The bear rolled over and over, hollering and 
yelling most unearthly, and after a while he got 
away into the brush. It was too dark to trail him 
that night, but next morning we went after him with 
dogs. We found him two or three hundred yards 
away from where we had shot him. He was pretty 
much crippled up, and we easy finished him. 

" He was quite an old bear ; his teeth was all wore 
out, and his claws was wore short down, and the fur 



278 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

was rubbed off in places. He was a bear what had done 
a heap of mischief, too : Pinto they called him. The 
sheep-men all knew him, and they used to say Pinto 
killed more mutton than all the butcher-shops in Ba- 
kersfield. We gave the skin to the boy, and he sold 
it for twenty dollars. That was quite a strike for a 
sheep-boy, and like a loony he had to go showing 
the money around. So in about a week I heard that 
Curly Ike down to Swiftwater had got it away from 
him." 

Thus far the good Bodie. But the two grizzlies 
most eminent in their time, and whose legends cir- 
culate most regularly around Sierra camp-fires, were 
Clubfoot and Old Joe. The former had the misfortune 
early in his career to put his foot into a trap, and paid 
for his freedom with a toe. But the incident taught him 
caution, and his amorphous imprint soon became 
dismally familiar to ranchmen over a wide extent of 
the foothill region. His history has already become 
nebulous, and I found that the glamour which is fatal 
to moderation of statement has settled about his 
name. Only the last scene of his life emerges plainly 
from the trailing clouds of glory into which he van- 
ished. It is known that he made a brave end, turning 
up his remaining toes somewhere "up north," where 
he was taken at a disadvantage in the act of dining 
royally upon beef of his own killing. 

Old Joe reigned about the same time over a region 
a little to the south of Clubfoot's territory, and there 
his twelve-by-nine footprint was recognized with re- 



BODIE: "WELL, SIR — " 279 

spect by backwoodsmen and cattlemen of the Mari- 
posa country. The famous hunter Jim Duncan was 
engaged about that time upon his stint of a hundred 
bears, and was particularly anxious to check off Old 
Joe on his rapidly increasing tally. As John Conway, 
now the patriarch of Wawona, who was himself a 
crony of Duncan, expressed it to me, — 

"Jim's score was doin' nicely, but they was mostly 
blacks and cinnamons, and Jim he just naturally 
hankered after Old Joe. One dark cloudy day, down 
on Alder Creek, Jim was out hunting with his old 
muzzle-loader. He stopped along by some big pines, 
just resting and standing quiet, and he looks up and 
there comes Old Joe, walking along in easy range 
and not seeing him. Jim he looks at Joe, and he puts 
up his gun, and draws a bead, and — and then, by 
thunder, he crawfished I Yes, and I would too, if I'd 
have looked at Old Joe along any old muzzle-loader." 

Thereafter, the terror of Old Joe lay heavier than 
ever on the foothills, and the ranchmen paid their tolls 
almost with alacrity. At last, however, his oppressions 
roused the sheep-men of the Hornitos region to fury, 
and they conspired under the leadership of one Had- 
lick to overthrow him. Half-a-dozen of them pro- 
ceeded to Pothole Meadows, whence he had been last 
reported, and where there was a big corral, the traces 
of which remain to this day to vex the souls of tourist 
gentlemen interested in mutton. A couple of sheep 
were killed, and the carcasses, after being trailed 
around, were hung up in an oak tree about ten feet 



28o YOSEMITE TRAILS 

above the ground. Then, having staked their mules 
out in the meadow, the men gathered around the fire 
and passed an hour or two in a symposium of verbal 
bravery at Joe's expense. 

When darkness fell they stopped talking and lay 
down quietly with rifles ready to hand, and waited 
for events. About nine o'clock the jacks came tearing 
into camp on the lope, trailing their picket-ropes, and 
stood with their tails to the fire, their necks stretched 
forward, and their ears working like metronomes, 
gazing but into the darkness. Presently Old Joe ar- 
rived and walked up into the light of the fire, while 
the mules bolted back into the meadow, where they 
stood shivering and snorting, their terrified eyes 
shining greenly in the firelight. But Old Joe was not 
the bear to take tough mule when there was fresh- 
killed mutton hanging in plain view. After a few 
moments of what looked like ostentation, but may 
have been only indecision, he walked up to the tree 
where the sheep were hanging, reached up and took 
down a carcass as if he were a butcher, and walked 
thoughtfully away. And all the while Hadlick and 
his merry men lay watching, and no man durst put 
finger to trigger. 

I ventured to suggest to Mr. Conway, in extenua- 
tion of their inaction, that I had heard similar cases 
ascribed to a species of hypnotism. " I don't know 
about that," he rejoined, "but if that's what you call 
being scared plumb out of your senses, I reckon 
that 's what them fellers had.'* 



BODIE: "WELL, SIR — " 281 

*' No," he added, in reply to my inquiry as to the 
circumstances of Joe's departure, "no one knows 
what came of Old Joe. He was never killed, anyway 
not in this section of country. I reckon he just natu- 
rally got old, and went off up into the jimmy-sal,* and 
died, as you might say, in bed. But you can bet he 
died with his boots on." 

* Jimmy-sal: chamisal^ i. e., greasewood-brush. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE HIGH SIERRA: LAKE TENAYA TO MONO 

THE old Tioga road winds its tortuous length of 
fifty miles through as rough a stretch of country, 
I suppose, as any road in the United States. Leav- 
ing the Big Oak Flat road near Crocker's Station, 
some fifteen miles northwest of the Yosemite, it 
makes for its objective point, the derelict Tioga Mine, 
on the crest of the Sierra, in a whole-hearted style 
that comports well with the spirit of the boisterous 
days in which its lines were run. Its main direction 
is easterly, parallel to the courses of the Merced and 
Tuolumne rivers; but in mid -career the opposing 
bulk of Mount Hoffman forces it to a wide southerly 
detour where it skirts Lake Tenaya. Then swinging 
again to the northeast, it crosses the Sierra at Tioga 
Pass, 9940 feet above sea-level. 

After a quiet Sunday, enlivened by a brief but 
stirring thunder-storm, we marched out early on 
Monday morning upon this rude highway, heading 
for Soda Springs. Passing under the eastern shoul- 
der of Murphy's Dome, it was seen to be continued 
in two or three subsidiary flatted domes. Bodie's 
archives of local lore failed to yield any record of 
the departed son of Erin who has bequeathed his 
name to this barren mountain and the creek which 



THE HIGH SIERRA 283 

comes down on its farther side. He or some other 
patriot has taken care to commemorate his friends 
pretty thoroughly in this part of the Sierra : the Raf- 
fertys, Delaneys, McGees, Brannigans, and Donohues 
are all remembered in the names of lakes, mountains, 
and creeks, while Ireland herself has both a creek 
and a lake "named for her." I own that I prefer 
even these uncompromising names to the sentimen- 
tal titles that are attached to many of the points of the 
Yosemite Valley itself. 

As we passed close to the little conical point of 
granite which was so conspicuous at the head of the 
lake, there was an excellent opportunity to study the 
peculiar Yosemite formation at close range. One has 
a vision of Nature in the r61e of housemaid, scouring 
away through patient centuries at these granite blis- 
ters with a glacier in her hand, polishing and finish- 
ing them to perfection. At the north end of even this 
little mountain a vast quantity of talus has accumu- 
lated, much of it looking as white and clean as if 
it had fallen yesterday ; as probably it did, speaking 
in centuries. On all the surrounding slopes great 
rounded boulders lie about by thousands, the untidy 
emptying of the pockets of the ancient glacier. 

We were reminded by the appearance of four va- 
queros that we were now for a few miles in more 
travelled country. Soda Springs is the farthest out- 
post of civilization in this region, and hither all the 
trails of this part of the mountains head in. The men 
were Mexican sheep-shearers, who, as we learned in 



284 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

five minutes' exchange of news, had come up from 
Inyo by one of the southern passes, bound for the 
ranches of the San Joaquin. 

Cigarette - ends were shed around them as we 
talked, like autumn leaves. One of them, with an 
amount of forethought unusual in his race, had used 
some interval of rest to provide himself with a stock 
of " tabacos," which were disposed, in readiness for 
instant use, in the band of his sombrero. This store 
was freely drawn upon by his companions, who when 
they needed a new cigarette had but to jerk their 
horses over and pluck one from him, as if he were a 
tree yielding that desirable fruit. They rode tough, 
undersized ponies with enormous Spanish saddles 
which clothed the little animals like overcoats, and 
gave them a tournamental appearance that, in con- 
junction with the slouching negligence of their riders, 
was highly comic. 

In conversation with them we were able to assure 
ourselves that we should find any pass by which we 
might elect to return, after our visit to Mono, open 
from snow ; which is not always the case, even by 
the end of July, unless the preceding winter has been 
a mild one in point of snowfall. Bodie also refreshed 
his knowledge of the movements and general well- 
being of sundry Jims and Bills ''down Inyo," and 
" over Mono " ; after which, with the inevitable vale- 
dictory, " Well, guess we '11 have to be moving," and 
a chorus of **AdiosI" the cavalcades sorted them- 
selves and parted east and west. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 285 

Like huge blisters the domes rose on all sides, 
each more remarkable than the last. A very notice- 
able one is Fairview Dome, along the base of which 
the road passes, with another facing it, on the ex- 
treme summit of which a great pebble of perhaps 
fifty tons has been left by the ancient glacier, care- 
fully balanced, like a pea on some prodigious ostrich 
egg. On both these mountains, which rise about a 
thousand feet above the general level, the glacial 
polish can be seen glittering to the very top. 

Bodie was that morning a man of many moods. 
First of all snatches of Ben Bolt were borne past me 
upon the breeze. This outbreak of sentiment I had 
just succeeded in tracing to the pensive influence 
of the hemlock forest through which we were riding, 
when the theme of his song abruptly changed, and I 
heard him relating, in a novel kind of allegro recita- 
tive, the prowess of one Casey, a Hibernian Ulysses 
of strange and varied exploits. This, too, seemed ap- 
propriate enough, in the haunts of bygone Murphys 
and McGees ; but when he broke next into A Life on 
the Ocean Wave, I abandoned the attempt to follow 
his mental processes. 

It was a saddening feature of the scenery along 
many parts of our route that we passed frequently 
through wide areas of tamarack forest where the 
trees were dead, as the result (so I afterwards found) 
of fire, though at first sight the cause was not appar- 
ent. This was the case in parts of the region we 
were now traversing. On questioning Bodie as to 



286 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

the cause, his brief reply was, " Insecks " ; and he 
proceeded to express his contempt for certain " Gov- 
ernment guys " who, he said, came out every year or 
two from Washington to examine and report upon 
the matter. This seemed to confirm the statement 
which I have sometimes heard advanced, that the 
man of action is prone to hold him of mere theory 
and investigation in slight regard. 

I found the same principle illustrated when, guid- 
ing the conversation into his own field, I took occa- 
sion to quote Kipling's line about " the mule-train 
coughing in the dust." " The feller what said that," 
he rejoined, "don't savvy what he wants to say. 
Mules don't never cough, not unless they 've got a 
cold on 'em. Sneezing's what he means, and I don't 
care who the jay is." As I seemed to recall having 
myself experienced a kind of compound of the two 
operations, I was not prepared to argue the point, 
and judged it best to abandon this field also to him. 

Discoursing thus of many things, at five-animal 
range, I being, as usual, in the lead and he in the 
rear, we found ourselves emerging upon a wide ex- 
panse of level grass-land. This was the Tuolumne 
Meadows. Here comes in from the south the so- 
called Sunrise trail, which is the direct route to this 
point from the Yosemite Valley by way of the Little 
Yosemite and the high mountain region east of the 
Tenaya Cafion. Straight ahead rose Mounts Dana and 
Gibbs, with Kuna Crest a little to the south and the 
point of Mount Conness, more distant, in the north. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 287 

Dana was our to-morrow's quarry, and we marked 
him for our own. Cathedral and Unicorn peaks also 
came now suddenly into full view, close on our right ; 
the former crested with half-a-dozen splintery pinna- 
cles, the latter with a single sharp, horn-shaped cone, 
and both broadly banded with snow. Out yonder to 
north and east, under a hood of pale, hard sky, lay 
the Mono country and Nevada's dry and burning 
plains. 

Fording the river, which here runs a wide, hand- 
some stream, we made for the camp of the little de- 
tachment of soldiers, four in number, who are kept 
here during the summer on outpost duty. On the 
way we passed the springs themselves, an outflow of 
cold mineral water, bubbling up generously, close to 
the bank of the river. 

It was with no little interest that we traced by the 
soldiers' maps the course of our wanderings all the 
last week, locating the cut-offs we had left undone 
that we ought to have done, and the trails we had 
done that we ought not to have done. 

Striking again into the road we followed it, rising 
steadily, for five or six miles. At about 9700 feet we 
found a southerly trail which we held for a mile or 
so, and then camped on a small creek which comes 
down from the saddle between Dana and Gibbs, and 
at the very base of Dana himself. On the west rose 
the magnificent shape of Kuna Crest, plentifully be- 
snowed. Along the base stretched the moraine of 
the old glacier, the most perfect instance of a lateral 



288 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

moraine that I have seen. By the trees growing upon 
it I gauged its average height as not far short of a 
hundred feet. 

It was somewhat too late in the day for us to make 
the ascent of Dana, so Field went ofi to look for a 
small lake which Bodie reported as lying under the 
northern face of the mountain. A sudden rain com- 
ing up, Bodie and I rigged up our big canvas and 
sat tight. Our guide was in a rare literary mood, and 
buried himself in our travelling library of three elderly 
magazines : I devoted myself to the pleasures of an- 
ticipation, for to-morrow I was to taste my first au- 
thentic mountain of this region. 

There he was, 13,050 feet undeniable, showing 
from our camp a handsome red-brown cone with its 
longest side thrown out to the northeast, where it 
terminated in a fine precipice. Forests clothed its 
lower buttresses, and sheets of snow gleamed on the 
higher slopes. On the northern side much more snow 
must be lying, as I could see was the case with his 
lesser brother Kuna, whose north and west faces 
were in view. I acknowledge I felt some excitement, 
though Dana is held to be a very easy mountain to 
climb, and Alpine Clubs would no doubt deride it. 
But after all, one's first thirteen - thousand - footer 
ought to be something of an event, and I hope 
never to be blask of my mountains. 

A vivid after -glow flushed the snow on Kuna 
Crest to a delicious rose, and burned on Gibbs and 
Dana in a strange, deep, rusty red that needed ex- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 289 

plaining. It was entirely a new note of color among 
the all-prevailing granites, and seemed to signify- 
that a change might be looked for in geological 
features. 

Lying snugly rolled that night in my blankets, I 
noticed the sky, which was now clear of clouds, 
filled with a greater myriad of stars than I ever ob- 
served before. The velvet firmament was almost 
white with their innumerable multitudes. I suppose 
that there are countless numbers of stars yet unre- 
vealed in the empty spaces of the sky, and I won- 
dered whether we may not be in fact surrounded 
with an unbroken curtain of light. 

The next morning Field discovered that he had 
left one of his lenses behind, halfway up Alkali Creek 
Cafion, where he had last used it. Bodie hand- 
somely offered to ride back for it by way of Soda 
Springs and a cut-off trail. We appreciated this 
friendly proposal all the more since we knew that 
he entertained grudging sentiments with regard to 
photographic implements in general, as being ob- 
jects unruly to pack, and the occasion of frequent 
stoppages and disarrangements of loads. As to 
climbing the mountain, he had done that once be- 
fore, and "climbing wasn't his long suit, anyhow." 
So at half-past six Field and I started for the sum- 
mit, while he mounted Clementine and by diligent 
rope-ending persuaded her away from her attend- 
ance on Pet, who I could almost fancy fetched a sigh 
of relief. 



290 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Under a cloudless sky we followed upward the 
course of the litde creek. If I had not known that I 
was in California I could easily have believed that it 
was a Highland burn that came shouldering down 
between bossy, over-curving banks of rough moun- 
tain grass, pouring steadily over ledges and boul- 
ders, swirling in elbows, draining and sucking through 
matted roots of heather, and tossing crisp, hissing 
drops a yard into the air. Then into the blessed for- 
est, with its million-and-one friendly presences, trees 
and birds, flowers and roving zephyrs, and that old 
feeling of interrupted action, and hidden, whimsical 
woodland creatures. 

Gradually the forest thinned until we passed out 
on to the open mountain-side, clothed with mats of 
dwarf willow and tussocks of wiry grass, and with 
ribbons of water furrowing the ground in a network 
of pipe-like channels. A few dwarf pines were scat- 
tered here and there, holding their hard-won ground 
determinedly, like the advanced outposts of an army. 
The stark poles were tossed about the ground where 
the storms had wrenched them down, and many of 
those that stood erect were like skeletons, white and 
bony. At eleven thousand feet, even the Old Guard, 
that dies but never surrenders, had been beaten down 
to the ground, but still they fought upon their backs, 
under impenetrable shields of flattened and felted 
foliage that a man might walk upon. 

Small rugs of meadow were spread in hollows, 
spotted with daisies, small but precious. In one of 



THE HIGH SIERRA 291 

these meadowlets a few thistles were growing stur- 
dily, looking as much at home as if they were on 
Ben Nevis; and among the boulders an alpine 
phlox formed little round cushions covered with hun- 
dreds of blossoms, ridiculously tiny but marvellously 
perfect. 

So far the way was remarkably easy ; it could hardly 
be called climbing, being nothing but a straight- 
forward march up the saddle between Mounts Dana 
and Gibbs. At 11,800 feet we gained the crest of the 
divide, and with extreme curiosity I looked over to 
the eastern side of the Sierra. From where we stood 
a cafion broke steeply down between walls of brick- 
burned rock. Sheets of "screes " swept down on either 
side, laced with streaks and pennons of snow. Almost 
at the head of the cafion lay a small lake of a strange, 
peacock-blue color, the bluest thing I have ever seen, 
as Bodie had predicted I should find it. Dark masses 
of timber filled here and there the hollows of the 
southern wall. Below and in the middle distance was 
a confused tumble of buttes and foothills ; and be- 
yond that lay a pale, circular sheet of blue-grey water, 
with a white island in the middle. It was Mono Lake, 
and strange and ghostly it looked. To the south of 
it stretched a line of grey volcanic craters, and be- 
yond again, the uneasy ridges of the Nevada desert- 
ranges faded into the distance. 

It was a sight that I had long wished to see, — 
mysterious Mono; and that day, under a bleached 
desert sky pencilled with lines of pallid whitish cloud, 



292 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

it looked mysterious, solitary, and desolate enough 
to satisfy my best expectations. 

We were still twelve hundred feet short of the peak 
of Mount Dana, which rose to our north above a vast 
slope of broken rock, interrupted here and there by 
cliffs. It is certainly an easy mountain to climb ; I 
can hardly conceive that there is anywhere a peak 
of equal height that is so easy of ascent. To reach 
the summit was simply a matter of pegging away 
at the tiresome slope, using a reasonable degree of 
care in picking our footing, for the blocks were of 
ever)^ shape and size, and often shifted under our 
weight. A broken leg would not be difficult to come 
by. 

The strange color of the mountain as we had seen 
it from camp was now explained. Both Dana and 
Gibbs are entirely different in formation from the 
country we had heretofore traversed. They are not 
built of granite, but of metamorphic slates, red, green, 
and purple in color, often handsomely veined and 
marbled, and splintering smoothly into large cubes 
and rhomboids, and tile-like smaller fragments. It is 
an interesting formation, and its rich display of colors, 
contrasting with the brilliant green of the meadow- 
patches, makes up a fine combination from a landscape 
point of view. 

As we neared the summit we encountered ever 
larger snow-fields. The sun was hot, and the water 
ran in a myriad streams, clinking merrily among the 
rocks under our feet as if a hundred kobold black- 



^||k:l 




n 


■ •'Mi 


t'-i 






1 


H^B^ ^ "^ ..ji^^v^HI^^A 



THE HIGH SIERRA 293 

smiths were laboring there. To me there is something 
very delightful in the subterranean voices of hidden 
water, songs almost with words, liquid lyrics of de- 
light. When I knelt down and put my ear to a splinter 
of stone that hung suspended like an inverted cone 
between larger blocks in one of these music gal- 
leries, I was quite charmed at the exquisite tone that 
sounded from it. No silver bell nor string of violin 
ever gave out a purer note. There was something 
solemn in the crystalline earth-music, solemn and 
sweet and lonely, and I went on with a feeling of 
pleasant awe. 

Climbing at last along the edge of a snow-bank that 
followed a northwesterly ridge, we gained the sum- 
mit. A wonderful view rewarded us, — a complete 
circle, three hundred and sixty degrees full, of 
mountains and lakes, with a strip of desert to the east 
where the plains of Mono flickered in parching heat. 
Immediately under the peak to the northeast is a 
remarkable plateau, about two square miles in extent, 
almost perfectly smooth, and covered with small bro- 
ken rock. This plateau breaks away precipitously to 
the east, and slopes more gently on the west to a nar- 
row snow-filled cafion that divides it from Mount Dana 
itself. At the head of the canon lies a small glacier. 

To all other quarters of the compass the whole 
prospect was a sea of peaks and ridges, whitened 
with snow, gloomy with precipices, and sprinkled with 
lakes of every size and shape. One long, trough-like 
valley led away westward toward the peaks and 



294 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

domes of Yosemite. Over all, the sun shining in a 
sky of broken clouds sent a thousand purple shadows 
flying like flocks of swallows. Southward a blue haze 
half obscured and half revealed a multitude of splen- 
did peaks. Among- them Mounts Lyell and McClure 
gleamed whitely glorious, cuirassed with glaciers, and 
Ritter, knight of the black shield, overtopped even 
them and us by a few score feet. 

It is remarkable how nearly alike in height are the 
main summits of the Sierra in this middle part of the 
range. There are four mountains that rise above 
thirteen thousand feet, — Dana, McClure, Lyell, and 
Ritter, — yet the last named, which is the highest, rises 
to only one hundred and fifty-six feet above the thir- 
teen-thousand mark; while a considerable number 
of peaks have an altitude of over twelve thousand 
five hundred feet. 

The comparison of this mountain topography to 
the sea is so essentially true that its triteness may be 
excused. The resemblance is exact and vivid to the 
broken forms of ocean water at the first lessening of 
the violence of a storm ; and when now I looked 
out over the vast extent of mountains, I received the 
same impression of confused but powerful action, of 
the leaping of passionate surges, the suck and sob 
of streaming hollows, the implacable gathering and 
advance of ridges in infinite tchelon^ that I have 
experienced in looking out from the deck of a ship 
in mid-ocean the day after a gale had blown. 

It was strange to find among the blocks and boul- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 295 

ders of the very summit a lovely plant growing. It was 
polemonium, bearing a beautiful flower of that hea- 
venly pure blue that I know only in the forget-me-not 
besides. The blossoms are large, profuse, and clus- 
tered, and have a delightful scent. For its luxuriance 
of size, color, and perfume, it might well be the trophy 
of a hot-house ; and to find such a plant at this alti- 
tude, when all other flowers, even the hardy alpine 
phlox and daisies, had dwarfed and dwindled until 
they ceased, was a notable surprise. Some angel, no 
doubt, comes to take earth-pleasure in this lonely 
garden of the mountains. 

We lingered for two hours about the summit, rev- 
elling in the superb prospect and the serenity of this 
heavenward station. Then, having duly contributed 
to the monument of piled rocks that marks the point 
of the mountain, and waving au revoir to Mono in 
expectation of being there to-morrow, we started on 
the return. The first part was accomplished in chamois 
fashion, leaping down from slab to slab in erratic 
courses, and only stopping to recover breath and the 
perpendicular when knees and nerves became shaky 
together. The ascent had taken five hours, the de- 
scent occupied two. Neither Field nor I is of the 
number of those who consider mountains as a sort of 
gymnastic apparatus, except incidentally ; and we suf- 
fered no distress when we learned that the mountain 
has often been climbed in two hours from the locality 
of our camp. We had done just two and a half times 
as well. 



296 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Bodie had returned from his twenty-five-mile ride, 
lens recovered and supper already under way. Sur- 
passing appetites, coinciding with the knowledge of 
unlimited supplies near at hand, justified a lavish re- 
past in which the last precious dust of the tea-canis- 
ter was involved. A transcendent fire, fanned every 
moment to leonine roaring by blasts that roamed 
down the eastward pass of the mountains, hardly 
tempered the chill of ten thousand feet of altitude. 
We unrolled our blankets early, and, discarding only 
our boots, crept in and lay, feet to the fire, chatting 
and smoking in tolerable comfort. 

By half-past six the next morning we were passing 
around the eastern face of Kuna Crest, where it rises 
to a handsome peak. It is altogether a fine moun- 
tain, with a long ridge trending southeast and north- 
west, and maintaining an average height of over 
12,000 feet. A faint trail led at first through rough 
meadow country, and then passed into tamarack 
forest which here showed no sign of disease, though 
the trees were whitened and scarred by storm and 
stress of climate. This hardy conifer has an unusual 
range of habitat. There are trees of the species in the 
Yosemite Valley at four thousand feet, and here they 
were growing at over ten thousand. Though uninter- 
esting in appearance and below the level of its family 
in physique, one gets to like this tree as one lives 
with it, for its every-day virtues. It fills the part of 
the ordinary citizen or man-in-the-street, unpreten- 
tious and undistinguished, but carrying on the rou- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 297 

tine work of the tree-world in a conscientious, me- 
thodical manner, leaving the choice places to choicer 
spirits, and populating great expanses of unhopeful 
mountain with its serviceable armies. 

One or two old cabins, long tumbled into ruin, 
stood beside the trail. Heaps of stones and rubbish 
were piled against them, the remains of capacious 
chimneys. A glow of sentimental warmth seemed 
still to hang about these mounds of debris. I con- 
jured up again the figures of the bygone miners 
and sheep-herders who had sat around the fires that 
once roared in them, — swart Gascons from the 
Landes, out-screaming the wind with impish picco- 
los and boisterous accordions ; down-east Yankees, 
"sudden and quick in quarrel," mitigating the soli- 
tude with euchre and deep potations ; the ubiquitous 
Briton, dreaming over Fleet Street or the old village 
in Surrey or Connemara as he stared into the glow- 
ing caverns of the fire. Now it is the little striped 
chipmunk that sits ruminating there, if such a bundle 
of nerves can be imagined ever to be in such an at- 
titude of mind ; and the only sound is the voice of 
the Clarke crow, uplifted in soliloquy as weird as that 
of the Raven. 

Some three miles of steady but easy climbing 
brought us to the head of Mono Pass. A pile of rocks 
marks the summit, and the bench-mark of the Geo- 
logical Survey gives the altitude as 10,599 ^^^t. A 
trail comes in here from the south, leading by way 
of Parker and Agnew passes to the so-called Devil's 



298 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

Post-pile, and so out by Mammoth Pass to Pine City 
on the east side of the Sierra. In the neck of the 
pass lies a small lake fed by snow-banks, and beyond 
it a group of long-deserted shanties, a windlass, and 
a mound of tailings mark the grave of somebody's 
hopes and capital. Here blows an eternal wind, 
strong, steady, and hissing cold. I always feel a so- 
lemnity in these great airs of the mountain summits, 
these winds of God. Like formless but mighty 
presences, the great sighing billows of the air-ocean 
surge on their vast courses, singing in majestic re- 
citative their Benedicite, Omnia Opera ! 

We halted to cinch up saddles and packs as se- 
curely as might be before beginning the four-thou- 
sand-foot descent of Bloody Cafion. Then with a 
final backward look to the west we plunged down 
the steep eastern face of the Sierra. A few hundred 
yards below we encountered a considerable snow- 
field. The snow, softened by the midsummer sun, 
was treacherous and annoying, and it was with diffi- 
culty that we prevailed upon the animals to commit 
their precious bones to the uncertain footing. Several 
times they all. Pet excepted, made a concerted bolt 
back up the trail, and for a time the welkin rang with 
sounds of battle, castigatory drummings upon equine 
ribs, and all the confusion of a general mllee. At last 
they went floundering and staggering across, sink- 
ing to the hocks in the rotten snow-ice. A quarter- 
mile brought us to another but smaller snow-field. 
This we skirted ; and escaped catastrophe thereby. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 299 

for it turned out to be hollow beneath. The water 
running from the upper snow had cut its way under 
this bank, leaving it a mere shell from wall to wall 
of the cafion. In its present softened condition it 
would certainly not have supported the weight of the 
loaded animals. 

Just below lay a charming little lake, blue as hea- 
ven, and swept ever and anon with handfuls of wind 
that sent delightful gleams and shudders over it. It 
bears the inscrutable designation of Sardine Lake. I 
hailed Bodie with an inquiry as to the reason for the 
name, and received his illuminating reply in one 
word, ** Canned." I learned later that years ago an 
ill-fated mule bearing a cargo of the delicacy con- 
signed to a merchant in some mining-camp of the 
Walker River region had fallen off the trail, and after 
a series of spectacular revolutions had vanished in 
the icy waters. 

In the upper course of the cafion the walls rise pre- 
cipitously. It is in fact a gorge rather than a cafion, 
and it is easy to guess how it came by its name in 
the days when great bands of cattle were driven 
across the Sierra by this route, lacerating themselves 
as they scrambled among the jagged rock-debris 
through which the so-called trail is laid. When one 
recalls the behavior of a herd of excited cattle driven 
along an ordinary highway, and then imagines the 
scene of action transferred to this fearfully steep de- 
file, filled with shattered rock and narrowing at the 
top to a mere cleft, with yelling vaqueros urging the 



300 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

bewildered and terrified beasts into a panic, it be- 
comes a marvel that any of the animals should arrive 
at the head of the pass alive and unmaimed. The 
bones that still lie strewn up and down the trail tes- 
tify to the fate of many a victim of Bloody Caiion. 

I was charmed to find growing in this wild place 
a great variety of flowers. In the drip of snow-banks 
and among the tumble and shatter of slaty rock, there 
bloomed the choicest specimens that I had seen 
of many varieties, and with a remarkable range of 
colors. In particular I noticed columbines of pale 
rose and yellow, and even pure white ; pentstemons 
crimson, pink, purple, and blue of various shades ; 
and yellow and red mimulus, all surprisingly large 
and perfect, as if grown in a hot-house. A botanist 
would be enraptured with them. Here I met also an- 
other conifer, the limber pine {Pinus flexilts), a spe- 
cies which is confined, I believe, to the eastern flank 
of the Sierra. Its whitish twigs and its foliage are 
very similar to those of P. albicaulisy but the cone 
is larger and clay-yellow when ripe, and the tree is 
altogether bigger and more pine -like in habit of 
growth. 

Below Sardine Lake the caflon began to open and 
the blue hills of Nevada came in sight. Then the 
forest began in earnest. Owing to the rapid fall 
in altitude the various conifers meet and overlap 
very interestingly. Within a short range one passes 
through the successive belts of the albicaulis, con- 
torta, flexilis, and Jeffrey pines and the two firs. The 



THE HIGH SIERRA 301 

juniper also grows here to a handsomer tree than its 
stubborn wont, and it appeared to me that all the 
vegetation inhabiting the locality attains an unusual 
perfection of growth. 

Two miles and two thousand feet below Sardine 
Lake lies Walker Lake, a beautiful sheet of water, 
narrow and winding", nearly a mile in length, and 
wooded on all sides. Along its northern margin 
spreads a delightful meadow, fringed with aspen and 
willow, and exuberantly flowery. Long grasses were 
mixed with pale blue iris, larkspurs, lupines, daisies, 
and half-a-dozen kinds of those yellow compositae of 
which, for some reason which seems to have to do 
with their color, none but botanists take the trouble 
to learn the names. Wild roses also there were, of a 
color as deep as was the joy of meeting them ; and 
evening primroses, stately-tall. 

The lake is a beautiful one, partly rocky and ro- 
mantic, partly reedy and rural. Looking back, the 
mountains towered grandly, snow-laced and stern, 
close above this Eden ; while from this point eastward 
began the domain of the sage-brush and the desert, 
hardly more than an hour's travel from snow-banks 
and alpine crags. It is a condition highly interesting, 
and entirely characteristic of California, the land of 
violent contrasts. 

At the lower end of the lake a band of cattle were 
feeding. To us they wore a pleasing air of novelty. 
For three weeks we had had neither meat nor milk 
of them, except the canned apologies, and at the 



302 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

sight the latent butcher within the breast awoke and 
whetted his tools. 

After leaving the lake the northern wall of the cafion 
becomes bare of timber, except for a sprinkling of 
small oaks, and is dotted with the usual desert brush. 
The southern wall continues well forested, and Jeffrey- 
pines and tamaracks kept us company along the trail, 
each striving to outdo the other in endurance as they 
approached the desert level. I backed the Jeffrey, as 
being the nobler, more pine-like tree, and was grati- 
fied to see him eventually win out, growing sturdy 
and green far out on to the Mono plain. 

Suddenly we encountered a barbed-wire fence, and 
the trail widened into a sandy track that no doubt 
calls itself a road. A clear brook ran beside it, bor- 
dered with wild roses and tiger-lilies. Then appeared 
cultivated enclosures, and in the distance a few scat- 
tered farm buildings were visible. An Indian woman, 
pappoose on back, was performing some primitive 
agricultural rite about a plot of garden ground fenced 
with willow poles, where nothing could be discerned 
to be growing. A girl in a trailing blue ** wrapper '* 
turned upon me a countenance of such intense black- 
ness that I at first mistook it for her hair. My sal- 
utation, first in English, then in Spanish, elicited no 
response beyond a grunt staccato and a stare so sincere 
and prolonged as to become embarrassing. The Mono 
Indians are famous for their skill in basketry, and this 
stolid woman, it was likely, could weave baskets of 
amazing fineness of texture and admirable shape and 



THE HIGH SIERRA 303 

design. I was anxious to secure a specimen, but felt 
myself at a disadvantage and was fain to abandon my 
intention so far as these representatives of the tribe 
were concerned. 

Crossing a meadow of knee-high grass watered by 
a network of rivulets, I found my party, whom I had 
allowed to out-travel me by a mile or two, just going 
into camp at Farrington's Ranch. So great is the to- 
pographical contrast between the eastern and western 
faces of the range that while on this side it had taken 
only a few hours to descend from the crest to culti- 
vated plains, on the other it would have taken as 
many days. 

I despatched Bodie straightway to the ranch-house, 
where he was no stranger, to buy a loaf of stove bread 
and a pitcher of milk. We ate and drank our fill of 
these simple rarities with enormous gusto. Then I lay 
at length among willows, wild roses, ants, and sage- 
brush, and gazed dreamily ofi at the line of volcanic 
craters a few miles away across the valley. Unmis- 
takable craters they are, grey and ashy, topped with 
burnt-looking rocks, the lips that once spouted the 
imprisoned flame and fury of the earth up into that 
blue sky that now smiles so serenely. Will they ever 
again break silence? Stranger things have happened 
on this old earth. 

Suppose that as I lie here, indolent with ease and 
the fullness of bread, I should fancy that I see a faint 
smoke ascending from that grey cone. It cannot be : 
and yet, it certainly is. Strange : what next ? The 



304 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

smoke grows thicker and is unmistakable. After a 
few minutes a deep sigh or moan of the earth, such 
as I have heard preceding earthquakes, breaks the 
heavy hush of the air. I gaze fascinated at the smoking 
peak, awaiting I know not what. My mind is filled 
and teeming with all the unimaginable horrors which 
since childhood I have associated with earthquakes 
and volcanoes, — Pompeii, Lisbon, Sodom and Go- 
morrah, Pelee, The Revelation. And then — but never 
mind what might happen then. What does happen is 
that Field sits serenely smoking the while he peruses 
the five-days-old newspaper brought by Bodie from 
the house for our delight ; the bell on the black mule 
tinkles with a cracked, High-Church sound behind the 
bush under which I lie ; the wind blows, the clouds 
sail. Still, I remember that the wise man who, sadly 
reversing the better order, became foolish, wrote before 
the melancholy change that there was no new thing 
under the sun (he might have said, or old either), and 
that what had been would be again. So after all, who 
knows ? 

We had received friendly welcome to supper at the 
ranch-house, and revelled again in stove bread, with 
butter sweet and cool as primroses, steak of the juiciest, 
lettuce of the crispest, onions the most seductive and 
undeniable, and such a platter of potatoes as may 
not often be seen upon this planet, towering in plump 
spheroids of dazzling whiteness and discharging fra- 
grant cumuli of steam that assailed the very ceiling. 
The atmosphere abounded in taken-for-granted hos- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 305 

pitality and friendly badinage, in which certain leg- 
endary love-passages of Bodie were haled into the 
light, he nothing loath although professing ignorance. 
Later in the evening Field and I were summoned 
from photographic labors to partake of — pineapple 
sherbet I frozen with snow brought from the moun- 
tain peaks. Stumbling back to our camp thereafter 
through the soft, warm darkness, we contemplated 
with deep joy the prospect of a night sans mosquitoes, 
and an extra hour of sleep, or of that pleasant semi- 
coma which refreshes the mental faculties even more, 
in the morning. 



CHAPTER XVIII 
THE HIGH SIERRA: MONO TO GEM LAKE 

PHYSIOLOGY and psychology meet in the border- 
land of dreams, and the onion is a potent and 
treacherous vegetable. All night I walked precipices, 
'scaped hair -breadth 'scapes, and glissaded down 
league-long slopes of pineapple sherbet into sardine- 
populated lakes ; and when the sun rose sudden and 
red above the low Nevada mountains, I fortified my- 
self behind my knees and slowly returned to myself. 
I remembered having once been awake and seen the 
narrow waning moon swimming low down, like 
an ancient galley -boat, in the early morning sky, 
while a band of horses galloped and thundered 
around me, neighing wildly over some nocturnal ex- 
citement. I remembered, too, that I had had a bad 
headache. But a dip in the creek changed all that ; 
and with shining morning faces we presented our- 
selves at the breakfast - table, ready for fresh im- 
prudences. 

During the morning Bodie and I drove over to the 
store at the lake to lay in fresh supplies for the days 
to come. One meets out-of-the-way characters, natu- 
rally, in out-of-the-way places. As we ploughed 
along the dusty road we came up with a wagon and 
team driven, as it appeared from the rear, by a stout, 



THE HIGH SIERRA 307 

grey-haired woman/ wearing a man's soft felt hat. 
Her knot of greasy hair wagged with the wag of the 
conveyance upon a villainously dirty yellow neck- 
wrapper, and her broad back somehow expressed an 
ignominious and abominable complacency. As we 
passed the wagon we found that the driver was a 
man, with a swarthy, clean-shaven countenance of 
the fakir type. The swarthiness was principally the 
result of dirt, and I use the term clean-shaven as ap- 
plying to the manner of shaving, and having no 
reference to real cleanliness. 

A hundred yards ahead we passed another wagon, 
driven by an older man, less completely obnoxious, 
perhaps, in feature and person, but of a truculent 
and bullying aspect. The two ** outfits " seemed to 
bear a sneaking relation, though there was nothing 
that could be said actually to indicate any connection 
between them. 

I found that the sentiments of repugnance aroused 
in me by the men were strongly shared by Bodie. 
On my asking for a diagnosis, he unhesitatingly 
classified them as ** wagon - tramps," a profession 
whose name was new to me, but of whom he averred 
the existence of a large fraternity, well organized for 
purposes of mutual aid and protection in the practice 
of their calling. This consists in thieving in the 
grand larceny manner. Where your foot-tramp ven- 
tures to pick up a bridle, the wagon variety boldly 
steals the horse : where the smaller rascal demands 
the housewife's pies and coffee, this comparative de- 



3o8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

gree appropriates half-a-dozen sacks of barley from 
the barn. 

**The woods is full of them," Bodie poetically 
complained. " Along about March or April, spring 
anyway, these skates start out with their wagons. 
They just keep moving along, moving along, beat- 
ing their way ; always fat and hearty, never paying 
for nothing they can steal, and that's pretty near 
everything they want. See that dirty, long-haired 
blatherskite behind there : ever see a feller of that 
pattern farm? keep store? work honest with his 
hands ? No, sir, not with that hair and hide. Say, 
them cattle ought to be roped on sight and the hose 
turned on 'em, or the crick, and the hair clipped ofiE 
'em way down to their teeth. And I 'd like to handle 
the shears, I would." Thus honest Bodie ; and I fully 
agreed, though with a reservation as to the last 
article. 

It was a weird yet fascinating land through which 
we drove. Mono Lake and the region surrounding 
it are unique within the United States. Here, at an 
elevation of sixty-four hundred feet, is a body of 
water eighty or ninety square miles in extent, highly 
mineralized with the alkalines, borax and soda. Many 
streams from the mountains pour into it great quan- 
tities of pure fresh water, but without mitigating in 
any degree its peculiar quality. It is a veritable Dead 
Sea. No fish nor reptile inhabits it, nor does any 
wandering bird or animal come to its margin to 
drink its bitter waters. The shores are whitened with 



THE HIGH SIERRA 309 

alkaline incrustations, and the branches and twigs 
of dead trees that rise above the surface are petrified 
to the semblance of bone. 

The lake was anciently of much larger extent, and 
the old shore-lines are still plainly marked upon the 
higher ground, the highest one that is clearly distin- 
guishable being nearly seven hundred feet above the 
present level of the water. Two islands and a num- 
ber of islets lie out in the middle of the lake. The 
largest, Paoha or Herman Island, is about two miles 
long by one and a half wide. It is largely made up 
of volcanic ashes, and hot water and steam issue 
from a number of vents at the southern end of the 
island, hard by where rises a spring of fresh cold 
water. The smaller island is purely volcanic, of black 
basalt, with a crater of three hundred feet height. 

On the principal island indications of oil have 
recently been found, and the inevitable derrick is al- 
ready in evidence, with millionaires, diamonds, Paris, 
and divorce courts looming in the mental back- 
ground. 

It did not enhance for me the attractiveness either 
of the lake itself or of the Indians of the locality to 
learn that these latter subsist in part upon the larvae 
of a fly which breeds in this blighted water. The 
larvae are washed up at a certain season on the 
shore in such quantities as to form, I am told, heaps 
and windrows two or three feet in height. Lo, the 
omnivorous, has discovered a weird gusto in this 
unholy edible, which he dries in the plentiful sun 



3IO YOSEMITE TRAILS 

and then grinds to a powder which he denominates 
cuchaba, and mingles with his flour of acorns and 
other heterogeneous aliment. 

To the south of the lake stands the range of dead 
volcanoes, grey and menacing, their sides covered 
with powdery ashes mixed with pumice and obsidian. 
Even these forbidding slopes some varieties of plants, 
and even trees, contrive to inhabit. The highest of 
the volcanic peaks rises twenty-seven hundred feet 
above the plain. Facing them on the west rise in 
strongest contrast the splendid peaks of the Sierra, 
laced with joyful streams, spangled with lakes, and 
glorious with forests : life against death ; water against 
fire ; beauty for ashes. 

The road was deep in sand, merging into inter- 
minable wastes of sage and greasewood brush. Rab- 
bits and doves abounded. Here and there lay huge 
isolated tufae, covered with ugly blisters, knobs, and 
corrugations. One of them that was near a settler's 
cabin had been ingeniously converted into a storage- 
room, or it might even be called a house, for it was 
nearly as big as the cabin. The inside had been 
hollowed out and a door fitted to the aperture. It 
resembled an enormous mouldy chocolate-cream, 
and would have been a handsome dwelling for Dio- 
genes. 

On the hillsides grew scattered trees, mostly a new 
variety of pine, the mo^iophylla^ single - leafed, or 
piiion pine, from which the Indians gather great 
crops of those spall edible nuts which I have ob- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 311 

served in fruit-stores waiting long for purchasers. It 
is a useful-looking, bushy little tree, thickly foliaged 
with greyish-green needles. The cones are small and 
compact, and by no means generous in appearance ; 
but they are filled with large seeds which form al- 
most the staff of life of the Indians of the region. 

The post-office for this locality bears the appropri- 
ate name of Crater. I was expecting to receive let- 
ters there, and found Uncle Sam established in a 
rather pitiable little shack of a house, the only one 
for a mile or more in every direction. He was a 
genial soul, however, and discoursed with us in 
friendly wise, while he sorted out my mail, upon such 
matters as should be of universal interest : as, the 
price alfalfa hay was fetching over to the San Joaquin ; 
and, had Bodie ** heerd how was Jedge Dickerman's 
bay mare as had cut herself to slithers on a ba'b-wire 
fence down to Bishop ? " Further, he opined that 
Mono must look good to us after what he called, 
with a probably unconscious Biblical allusion, ** them 
etarnal mountins." In this Arcadian post-office one 
mails one's letters in the bureau drawer, and from 
the excitement aroused by my request for a five-cent 
stamp I gather that they are regarded as philatelic 
rarities of high finance. 

There are one or two little settlements along the 
lake-side, situated naturally at the points where 
streams from the mountains enter the lake. These 
hamlets are quite idyllic spots, riotously verdant, 
with neat houses and every appearance of modest 



312 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

prosperity. Thickets of wild rose six feet high, and 
heavy crops of alfalfa, clover, and timothy give proof 
of the magical effect of water upon this otherwise 
dreary desert. Yet to me there seemed always some- 
thing menacing in the neighborhood of that blue, 
sinister lake, like the inscrutable smile of a poisoner. 

By the roadside an Indian woman was sitting, sur- 
rounded by children, dogs, pots, gunny-sacks, and 
ashes. To my enquiry whether she had baskets for 
sale she replied briefly, ** No makeum basket," and 
closed the incipient transaction. 

While we attended to our business at the store, 
which is also a saloon, there entered our two sup- 
posed wagon-tramps, bearing demijohns and other 
accoutrements proper to bibulous travellers. These 
and themselves they proceeded with a businesslike 
air to fill with strong liquors, and after haunting the 
"stoop" for a few minutes in a furtive manner, 
climbed into their respective rigs and passed upon 
their way. I did not grieve that ours lay in the op- 
posite direction. 

Next morning I awoke at half-past three, and lay 
luxuriously smelling the morning scents and watch- 
ing the dawn. I might have been in Syria or Egypt. 
A long narrow line of burning desert red ran along 
the low east, shading suddenly into the ultra-blue of 
the night sky, hardly yet lightening to the day. The 
moon and the morning-star shone together, clear and 
earnest, with a few other stars of the greatest magni- 
tude still beaming in the zenith. It was almost the- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 313 

atrically scenic, but for the heavenly largeness and 
purity of the air, and the low cool blowing of the 
dawn-wind. I saw the Pyramids, and the Sphinx, 
and the Flight into Egypt. Then I got up and re- 
versed my bedding, and lay down again to revel in 
the phantasmagoria of the high mountain wall to the 
west, turning from night dimness to shadowy grey, 
then flushing and burning to red, redder and yet red- 
der, as the level arrows of the sun began to stream 
between the peaks of the distant Nevada ranges. 
And when the flashing disk came soaring up, and 
turned his shrivelling rays upon our bivouac, I sighed 
to think of that long, toilsome climb back to the 
High Sierra levels, which lay before us. 

Leaving the hospitable Farringtons with kindly 
farewells, and little dreaming how soon and how 
strangely the charming young daughter of the house, 
whose brightness and gaiety bloomed like a rare 
flower in that sequestered spot, was to be summoned 
away, we took the road to the south. It passed at 
first through a long valley meadow, with the living 
snowy mountains on one hand and the dead grey 
ones on the other. Behind lay Mono Lake, flicker- 
ing mirage -like under the desert sun. Swallows, 
most beloved of birds, skimmed joyously over the 
pastures, and meadow-larks bubbled and blackbirds 
chirruped from every fence-rail. 

After a mile or so we left the road for a trail that 
struck more westerly, and were soon skirting the 
grey, sage-covered foothills. Then the pines met us, 



314 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

their long picket-lines thrown bravely out far into 
the enemy's country. Parker Peak and Mount Wood, 
straight ahead, towered up magnificently, solidly 
snow-covered for half their height. These mountains 
form a noble gateway to Parker Pass, the next pass 
to the southward of the one by which we had crossed 
the range. 

A handsome stream, Rush Creek, came pouring 
down, clear and arrowy. We were to keep it com- 
pany for some days, and excellent company it proved 
to be. I do not know a more attractive stream in the 
Sierra. Even here on the lower levels it flowed full 
and strong and whole-hearted, and I wished that its 
fate had been rather to sink away into the desert 
sand than to merge and stifle in that dreary lake. 

Crossing a slight rise we came unexpectedly upon 
Grant Lake, lying unlakelike among rolling, sage- 
covered hills, but with fine snow-clad mountains be- 
yond to the south and west. A little square cabin 
stands by the shore, half lost among the tangle of 
brush and boulders. The door was open, and I went 
inside. There were tokens of recent habitation in the 
new ashes on the hearth, though furniture there was 
none except two plank shelves attached to the wall. 
The fireplace was a quaint concern, built of slabs of 
rock set between natural rough posts of wood. The 
little habitation might have been transplanted bodily 
from the plains of Languedoc. 

The lake shades off at its southern end into a wide 
swamp of tules, bordered by a meadow of waving 




RUSH CREEK AND T 




CREST OF THE SIERRA 



THE HIGH SIERRA 315 

grasses mixed with wild roses, iris, and many other 
flowers. A solitary sandhill-crane stood among the 
twinkling shallows of the lake-end, philosophically 
waiting, secure that his own should come to him. 
The crane seems to be a bird of admirable patience 
and quite gigantic leisure. 

Grant Lake is altogether a pleasing and peaceful 
spot, with a quiet, unexciting beauty of its own. Pass- 
ing down the meadow where a bunch of portly cattle 
were grazing, or, having grazed, were considering the 
possibility of grazing again, the trail wound among 
sandy flats where grew myriads of the thistle-poppy 
(Argemone)y mixed with the common low-growing 
thistle. The creek accompanied us in a friendly man- 
ner, running with a smooth, swift flow between banks 
lined with quiet willows and whispering aspens. As 
we began to rise more steeply the sage-brush ended, 
unregretted, and the pines received us once more into 
their illustrious kingdom. 

Conversation flagged somewhat. I think that in 
my own case this was due to a feeling of regret that 
we were now inward-bound, complicated possibly with 
a slight indigestion. Bodie's voice reached me occa- 
sionally, rebuking Jack, who insisted upon marching 
alongside instead of in the trail, and some twenty feet 
away, as if he were an officer. This preference resulted 
frequently in his encountering some impediment which 
his obstinacy would not brook to evade but urged him 
to push through, with disastrous effects upon his pack. 
When the barrier was plainly impassable his habit 



3i6 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

was to turn round three times, as if he worked on a 
pivot, and then stand looking at us with a coldly in- 
different air which implied, *4 don't care; you've got 
to get me out ; and I 'm going to do it again, too." 

A grove of unusually large aspens merged sud- 
denly into pines and junipers as the trail entered a 
narrow caiion, with rugged mountains closing around 
us. After a mile or two the cafion opened to another 
irised meadow where a cascade foamed down a side- 
cailon ; and half a mile farther we could see the whole 
river pouring wildly down the western mountain-side 
in a broad scarf to enter Silver Lake. 

This lake lies under a fine craggy mountain, whose 
steep gullies were laced with snow almost to the water. 
It appears to be visited by a good many people from 
this eastern side, being easily accessible (it lies at 
seventy-two hundred feet of elevation), and a nota- 
ble fishing ground. At the lower end were two or 
three tents, and on the lake was a boat from which 
two anglers were industriously casting. We sought 
a camp-ground at the upper end, and with some diffi- 
culty found a few square yards of level on the river- 
bank above the lake and close to the foot of the fall, 
which provided an eloquent background of sound 
for the meditations which an early camp and inspir- 
ing surroundings invited. 

The mountains were sombre, rugged, and finely 
turreted. On the eastern side of the lake they plunged 
in precipices almost to the water's edge ; to south and 
west they were equally imposing and rose in cliffs 



THE HIGH SIERRA 317 

of uncompromising verticality for three thousand 
feet. 

While Field photographed and Bodie succumbed 
to a siesta, I fished the stream with good success. 
The trout rose well to both fly and spoon, and were 
of good size and mettle. Bodie had recounted to 
me legends of trout of two feet length and over, and 
that such magnificoes do navigate the deep, still 
waters of this lake I see no reason to doubt. More- 
over, the flesh of these trout is salmon-red, as becomes 
a lordlier race, and is of surpassing flavor, as we all 
agreed at breakfast next morning. 

When I returned to camp I found it pervaded by a 
novel and grateful odor which proceeded from the 
sinkienon. I cautiously raised the lid, and beheld a 
semi-liquid conglomerate of ruddy or saffron hue, 
such as I have seen in the unlawful flesh-pots of 
wandering Egyptians. It was a ** mulligan," long- 
expected, come at last ; and as we ate we blessed once 
more the kindly hostess of Farrington's, and came 
and came again. 

When we turned in, a south wind was blowing 
strongly, with a scent of rain in it, whereat I some- 
what rejoiced. Thus far the whole trip had been made 
in sunny weather except for two or three spasmodic 
thunder-showers; and I longed for a day or two of 
storm, or at least of cloud, so that wild scenery might 
receive the enhancement of wild weather. 

I awoke to a glorious cloudy morning. Lowering 
vapors were lighted redly on their fringes by a sun 



3i8 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

that struggled to raise an excited countenance above 
the opposite wall of mountains. Hardly an hour 
ahead of him the litde thin moon was slipping 
through the wrack as if she thought herself pursued. 
Evening primroses, like other moons, gazed mildly 
down at me as I lay and watched the changes of the 
sky reflected in the smooth-flowing river six feet 
away. The wind had ceased, and even the aspens 
stirred not a leaf. 

By seven o'clock we were on the trail. It led at 
first up the steep face of the western mountain, 
among junipers and open brushwood, and close be- 
side the fall. The lake lay leaden grey among the 
gloomy hills, and rain was already falling from the 
eastern clouds. The wind had risen again, and 
boomed softly in our ears, mingling with the rush 
and roar of the fall. It was a morning full of half- 
tone poetry and clear but not acute sensations. I 
wonder whether I am singular in finding myself, as 
I always do, ten times as much alive on a soft grey 
day, or even on a hard grey one, as on a sunny 
blue one. If, I thought, I were a poet, or a painter, 
now, now I could do great work. 

And then came the blessed rain, driving down, 
driving down. Ah, welcome, welcome ! O wild, free 
spirit of my beloved Cumberland mountains, I feel 
thee near ! O friends, long departed, with whom I 
knew them, ye are near, too ! Now, see, far off the 
sun is pouring down a grey-gold flood of light upon 
some lonely lake, — I see it by an inward sense ; nay, 



THE HIGH SIERRA 319 

I am there. How still it is, and holy : the vision of a 
vision. 

We rounded the head of the fall in a wild amphi- 
theatre of castled cliffs that poured of[ into vast 
slopes of screes. A few junipers huddled on the 
rocky ledges. The rain streamed fervently down. 
Our animals scrambled and staggered upwards with 
bitter complaints, but mercy there was none. As we 
reached the crest the wind rushed heavily against us 
in angry surges as though it would sweep us over 
the clifl, and flung the stinging rain and hail level in 
our faces. Wild water, wild sky, wild earth, wild air, 
— it was superb, the pure -drawn joy of life. And 
here, in the neck of the pass, lay Lake Agnew, darkly, 
wildly beautiful. H igh mountains closed it in ; at its 
head a long white torrent thundered down over black 
ledges of slate ; and over all crouched a sky shred- 
ded into grey rain. Ever and anon the wind swooped 
screamingMown, and the little lake seemed to shrink 
and shiver like a terrified child. 

At the head of the long cascade yet another lake- 
let was hidden, with rocky islets breaking its surface. 
This connected with still another, lying under a black 
precipice, and surrounded with huddled clumps of 
tamarack. Opening from this is a larger lake with a 
magnificent snowy peak showing beyond it to the 
west. It was Gem Lake, and the great mountain was 
Lyell, king of the middle Sierra. 

The trail ran high above the water around the 
northern end of the lake before it dropped to a small 



320 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

meadow at the western end. Huge junipers were 
scattered along the cliff ledges, many of them mere 
skeletons, white and polished to the bone by the 
storms of many centuries. At this altitude of nine 
thousand feet winter reigns and rages for half the 
year; and the weird brothers stand grappling the 
rock with literal death-grips, their aged arms stream- 
ing out with horrified gestures, as if they would fight 
off the grisly enemy to the last. 

By a rocky point where a few clustered pines 
made a shade which, however unnecessary to-day, 
might be grateful to-morrow (which would be Sun- 
day), we pitched camp. Bodie, good man, rejoicing 
in abundant pasturage for his beasts, opened the 
grub packs with alacrity, and, outdoing himself in 
despatch, quickly hailed us to a majestic steak, re- 
plete with the juices of Mono's best herbage. 

The evening was mild, threatening more rain. I 
set fire to a sizable log that lay on the shore, and 
sat for an hour or two listening to the pleasant mono- 
logue of the lake. The wind, which had ceased about 
sundown, now rose again, and sent the ripples first 
whispering and then chattering up on the little beach. 
The sky was overcast, and occasional drops of rain 
fell hissing into the fire, which throbbed and roared 
like a blacksmith's forge under the heavy swirls of 
wind. The sparks blew out in a steady stream over 
the black water. It was a fine, hearty end to a splen- 
did day, and I brought my blankets down from 
camp and spread them close to the water's edge, so 



THE HIGH SIERRA 321 

that I could easily lift up and see what might be going 
forward in the way of weather or scenery if I should 
chance to awake during the night. 

As it happened there was a good deal going on 
in the way of weather. I might have slept an hour 
or two when I awoke to find the rain pouring down 
heavily, and distant thunder rumbling in the south. 
Pulling up an extra canvas over my head I lay and 
listened for a while to the tattoo of the rain and the 
muffled growling of the thunder ; then gradually I 
dozed of! once more. A terrific burst of thunder right 
overhead awoke me again, followed by others that 
roared and crackled all around the lake. I almost 
seemed to see the shattering impact of the sound- 
waves as they broke against that black precipice, as 
I have seen great breakers burst on a stormy coast 
and rush wildly up the face of some high clifT. 

The rain poured steadily down, and I retreated 
further into my fastness, in present comfort but with 
some anxiety as to how long it was going to last. I 
was fearful of damage, moreover, to our photographic 
properties, which were not protected against such 
heavy rain ; but I was a hundred yards away from 
camp, and the prospect of a dash through rocks, 
darkness, and a deluge was depressing. So I lay and 
suffocated myself into a state of coma, in which I was 
dimly aware of the tumult without and of a small 
but determined stream of water trickling down the 
bed within. I sleepily followed its course with my 
mind's eye, like a demonstration of the elements of 



322 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

hydraulics, observing how it slowly filled the hollows 
and ran rapidly down little canons, intent upon find- 
ing its level, which coincided with the position of my 
feet. When next I awoke there was no sound of rain, 
and I could see grey light marking the squares of 
my plaid blanket. Molishly emerging I beheld a sod- 
den earth, a scowling sky, and Field, driven untimely 
from his soaking bed, standing like a fire-worshipper 
on the highest coign of the adjacent rocks, eager to 
embrace the first rays of a melancholy sun. 

Breakfast put a better face upon matters, and a 
warmer sun allowed us to dry our clothes and bed- 
ding, though much after the fashion of Irish haymak- 
ing, dashing in and out between showers of rain and 
hail that kept dropping upon us as soon as ever we 
spread them out. 

Wandering up the course of the stream in the af- 
ternoon, I encountered a shepherd with his band of 
innocents. I had seen yesterday with some surprise 
a cloud of dust rising from a shoulder of the moun- 
tain a mile or two to the north, and after much cogi- 
tation had decided that it must be caused by a land- 
slide. Later in the evening, however, I had heard, 
borne on the wind, the deep toom^ tooiriy of the great 
French sheep-bell, and knew that the dust that had 
puzzled me marked the passage of a band of those 
** hoofed locusts " (as Mr. Muir calls the unconscious 
devastators), which, denied entrance into the Na- 
tional Park, range all summer about the eastern 
flank of the Sierra. These animals seem to have a 



THE HIGH SIERRA 323 

ventriloquial quality of voice that disguises their 
exact locality, and the first notice I had of their near 
approach was the barking of the two dogs as they 
caught sight of me and rushed to the attack. One 
of them was a superb collie of an unusual silver-grey 
color and of great size ; the other a composite canine, 
simply a dog. I was not sorry to hear the voice of 
their master crying, *' A das, Roland! Suzette P^ 

The shepherd was a pastoral-looking youth, F rench, 
blue-eyed, with a pleasant slow smile and a language 
mixed of his native tongue, English, and Spanish. 
With his wide-brimmed hat and sauntering, country 
air, he would have made a pretty Silvius if fitted out 
with a beribboned crook in place of the stout cudgel 
he carried, with which he mechanically thumped the 
log of fallen timber across which we conversed. 

** It was rain the night that is passe, ver mooch 
rain.'^ 

"But yes, it is certain: and we got wet. And 
you?" 

** Ma foi, yes, m'sieu\ Sacre ! quel tonnerre ! quel 
eclair! quelle pluie! I was — how you say? — droon, 
moi." 

" It is said that to drown is not unpleasant," I ven- 
tured. 

** Eh, bien, to me I do not like it. It wets." 

** It is true. Think you the rain is over ? " 

"Quien sabe, sefior?" And after some further de- 
bate, and with gesticulations of profound considera- 
tion, we parted. 



324 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

It is a strange life that these wandering shepherds 
lead. In the spring they leave the valleys with their 
flocks, a couple of dogs, and a burro loaded with 
simple provisions, among which is sure to be in- 
cluded one of the great round cheeses made by lov- 
ing hands of mother or sister in dear France, and 
brought or sent to console the absent Jacques or Ar- 
mand in his exile. For half the year they wander 
from valley to mountain and from cafion to meadow, 
in and out and up and down, each night gathering 
their slow-moving flocks around them, and camping 
patriarchally with their faithful lieutenants, a true de- 
mocracy of labor. The only sounds they hear, beside 
the great monologue of Nature herself, are the ever- 
lasting conversations of the sheep, the bark of their 
dogs, and the deep boom of the sheep-bell. 

The bells, like the cheeses, are characteristic ; — 
solid, old-world things compounded of steel and sil- 
ver, and often curiously ornamented. Their tone, 
while it is of great carrying power, is musical and 
mildly melancholy. Often, too, the herders carry 
with them some beloved instrument, — flute, or ac- 
cordion, or even violin ; and you may chance to hear, 
in some lost cafion or by some lonely lake, the Mar- 
seillaise, or some wildly sweet Provengal air, played 
with a fervor of love and longing that exceeds the 
utmost of skill. 

Near by our camp was a heap of stones that sup- 
ported a rough cross, made of straight pieces of pine- 
bough fastened loosely with baling- wire. This hum- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 325 

ble monument marks the grave of a solitary who 
came years ago to this high and lonely spot, seeking 
to evade arrest by the grim sergeant. But the hand 
was on his shoulder, and here he died. Through the 
short summer the birds whistle and the grasses wave, 
and all the long winter the silent snow falls and the 
storm whirls, over his place of rest. I noticed that a 
few wild forget-me-nots were blooming among the 
stones of this tiny cemetery. Some friendly angel 
may have planted them there, out of pity and such 
strange sorrow as angels may feel. 

The evening clouds were remarkably beautiful, of 
golden-rose, smoky greys and purples, and greenish 
yellows, with a further background of dull, thundery 
blue. Again I sat late by the ruddy fire. It was 
pleasant, drawing toward the end of my Sierra wan- 
derings, to think how many of these friendly pines 
and hemlocks had been reddened by my camp-fires. 
And will be again ? Quien sabe ? as Armand says. 
But the little black wavelets plashing on the beach 
keep saying again and again. Yes, yes ; — yes, yes ; 
— yes, yes. So be it, with all my heart. 

A few showers fell again during the night, but we 
had rigged up a shelter, and Field and I were only 
aware of them to the extent of turning over, smiling 
comfortably, and going to sleep again. Bodie, who 
had declared that there would be no more rain, suf- 
fered the fate of the prophet who is rash enough to 
back his opinion to the length of acting upon it. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE HIGH SIERRA: GEM LAKE TO THE 
LITTLE YOSEMITE 

THE morning dawned propitiously for a move 
over the Donohue Pass to the Lyell Fork ; but 
while we were in the act of packing, clouds again 
came driving up from the south ; the mountains be- 
came grey and veiled ; and in a few minutes rain 
was falling heavily. For myself, I wanted nothing 
better than a long rainy day in such a spot. Promptly 
unpacking, we raised our canvas shelter, and, seated 
on our bedding rolls, settled down to enjoy ourselves 
with the virtuous feeling of having been willing to be 
energetic but denied the opportunity. 

It was very, very lovely. The lake was silent, drift- 
ing toward me and meeting the grey margin with a 
mysterious soundlessness. A solitary water-bird flew 
with sharp, curving wings over the water, and the 
sound of the creek running into the lake beyond the 
stony point, where the ripples spread in shining arcs, 
was mixed with its own echoes. The clouds gathered 
and parted, ever pouring up from beyond the south- 
ern mountains. Is there no end, dark angels ? On 
the soft wet green of the hills sudden shifting gleams 
were cast from a sky broken by wan, troubled lights. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 327 

Black slate glistened on the mountain-sides, and the 
long screes plunged into the water in purple ava- 
lanches. It was Scotland or Dartmoor. 

The tamaracks' dark foliage glowed unwontedly 
bright against the sodden black of their bark, and 
the littie tufts of alpine phlox growing matted among 
the upturned slates waited with half-opened blossoms 
in patient shyness. Lichens and mosses, yellow, grey- 
green, and Indian red, touched the cold stones with 
disks of strongest color. The red twigs and sallow 
leafage of the willows twinkled with diamond lights 
when a beam of pallid sunlight struck athwart them. 
Where a two-minute shower fell between me and the 
hazy sun, a silent dance came on the surface of the 
lake, like the short second movement of the Moon- 
light Sonata, and beginning and ending as suddenly. 
On the wet wind came the distant sound of the sheep- 
bell and the far-off, dreamy cry of the sheep. I could 
see them streaming endlessly over a pine-clad shoul- 
der of the mountain half-a-mile away, making to the 
next valley. 

The weather clearing somewhat by the middle of 
the morning, we packed again and started for the 
pass, leaving the lake and its lonely grave desolate 
under brooding clouds. Farewell, unknown friend; 
sometimes I shall revisit in memory your quiet place 
of rest. Farewell ! farewell ! 

We now started westward through tamarack for- 
est, following generally the course of the stream. 
Rising rapidly, and skirting two or three lakelets, we 



328 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

entered a wild and rocky gorge. The trail, poorly 
blazed and showing no sign of having been travelled 
that year, taxed all Bodie's trail-craft to follow it. As 
we reached the first divide a glorious sight burst upon 
us. Right ahead rose Mount Lyell and his fellows, — 
McClure, Ritter, Kellogg, Banner, and half-a-score 
beside of the giants of the range, more clustered and 
heaped together than at any other point of the whole 
chain. Over the majestic prospect was poured a tu- 
mult of light and shade that raised it from a land- 
scape to a pageant. 

The storm-clouds that wrapped the peaks revealed 
every moment, as they changed and parted, black 
crags and high-flung summits, or snow-fields massed 
in unbroken sheets of gleaming white. The unusual 
quietude of the river, which here, moving through 
level meadows, reflected the mountains in its dark 
waters, enhanced the dreamlike feeling of the place ; 
and the silence, in contrast with the impetuous move- 
ment of the clouds, seemed a fine summary of the 
eloquence and power of Nature. 

At this spot it began again to rain upon us, and 
the immediate prospects were for more. So we went 
early into camp beside the creek, rather than cross 
the pass in the face of a possible heavy storm, which 
at nearly eleven thousand feet might prove a severe 
experience. We had heard at Mono that a party of 
people who had tried to cross a few days before had 
been forced to abandon the attempt through stress 
of weather and the difficulty of crossing the treach- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 329 

erous snow. Thunder boomed among the peaks and 
the rain thrashed down in staggering drifts, setting a 
thousand rills coursing among the channels of the 
granite. 

Bodie somehow accomplished a loaf of bread, 
under circumstances which he truly said " gave him 
no show " ; and we sat snugly dining, smoking, and 
congratulating ourselves under our improvised shel- 
ter. The afternoon passed in alternate rain and clear, 
but without any glimpse of the sun. It was dismally 
cold. The mountains changed and changed, from 
glorious gloom to gloomy glory ; the river swirled 
and roared along ; and the clouds trooped sullenly 
past, like that line of kings that frighted Macbeth. 

By evening the weather cleared, and I wandered 
in the gathering dusk about the neighborhood of our 
camp, smelling the vigorous piny essences poured 
out from rain-soaked bark and foliage, and feeling 
the thrill of intense life in the hardy dwarf pines and 
tamaracks. I am constantly surprised, in spite of 
experience, at the flowery and luxuriant vegetation 
which one meets in these high places. Exploring up 
a little creek that entered the main stream beside the 
camp, I found myself among cyclamens, columbines, 
daisies of wonderful size, and many other delicate and 
beautiful flowers, growing with long waving grasses 
in gardens set among a tumble of granite boulders. 
Here, at the end of July, a Californian would think 
himself in April or May. It is like the quick summer 
of Arctic latitudes, sudden, vivid, and brief. It is 



330 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

hardly a month since winter ended, and six weeks 
hence the snows may again be falling. A few miles 
away, and but two or three thousand feet above, are 
glaciers, and snow-drifts fifty feet deep. (Bodie says 
a hundred, and perhaps one may as well guess gen- 
erously ; it is stimulating and yet harmless, which is 
unusual.) Even the sturdy dwarf pines hereabout are 
close upon their last straggling verge. Yet in this 
little sheltered cafion early summer is in full career, 
rank and riotous. 

It is this peculiarity which gives to the High Sierra 
its most unique charm. It may be that in the Hima- 
layas, or the Mountains of the Moon, or some other 
such place of legendary import to most of us, the 
same condition might be met with ; but it is a constant 
delight and surprise to encounter this rare conjunc- 
tion in our own friendly mountains. 

The next morning dawned heavy and rainy-look- 
ing, with the fiery sunrise that an old rhyme, by 
which I used to divine the weather prospects of school 
holidays, declares to be the shepherd's warning. 
However, by the time breakfast was over it looked 
more promising, so we hurriedly packed and started 
for the pass. The trail here is the mere ghost of a 
track, the shadow of a shade, and Bodie, who had 
covered the ground before, took the lead. A perpen- 
dicular ridge pinnacled with seven sharp spires shot 
up superbly on our right, and I passed it with regret ; 
but in view of the weather, time was just now an im- 
portant consideration, and the snowy monsters ahead^ 



THE HIGH SIERRA 331 

growing every moment nearer, consoled me, and we 
pushed rapidly forward. 

The way led alternately through masses of piled 
and shattered granite and brilliant litde meadow- 
patches, sparkling with rain and starred with hosts 
of flowers. At last the sun shone weakly, but we re- 
joiced with trembling, for July here is as changeful as 
April on the plains. Over broad areas of glacial rock, 
strewn with boulders and laced with gushes of snow- 
water, we picked our way with the precarious aid of 
so-called monuments, hardly discernible in the gen- 
eral wreck and shatter. 

We were here at timber-line, where only the dwarf 
pines, tough as whip-cord, can endure the winter's 
rage, and even they are beaten and felted down into 
mere rugs that spread horizontally a foot or so above 
the ground. The flowers that grow in these highest 
meadows are astonishingly rich in color. Lupines of 
the bluest, and daisies of a deep lavender approach- 
ing purple, mingle with glistening buttercups, and 
castilleias of scarlet at its highest power. I have hith- 
erto refrained from mentioning the last-named flower 
(generally called Indian paint-brush), having con- 
ceived something of an aversion to it at the outset. 
Its construction is peculiar and unflowerlike, and it 
is somehow uncongenial to me ; while the astonish- 
ing profusion of the plant, which accompanied us 
everywhere in our wanderings, high and low, irritated 
me with a sense of almost persecution. But I am 
compelled at last to do justice to its color-power, in 



332 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

which regard it outdoes even the geranium and nas- 
turtium. It was here of a red so fierce and refulgent 
as to really require a new word to express it. The red 
poppy is a pale invalid beside this roistering gypsy. 
It pours out color, throbs with it, seems to shed it ofif 
like something palpable ; and I can imagine that an 
essence or sublimation, too fine for our senses to 
perceive, goes up from each of these myriad blos- 
soms which could be kindled into flame, — the es- 
sential, elemental Red. 

Passing through a turfy valley, where the stream 
widened into still pools, clear as air, we were in full 
view of the great cluster of mountains known as the 
Lyell group. A solemn and magnificent company 
they were, and I felt much as if I looked upon a gath- 
ering of the kings and emperors of olden history, — 
Charlemagne, the Great Rameses, the greatest of the 
Caesars, Alexander, Sardanapalus. Farthest to the 
south one splendid peak ran up in a steep, swinging 
curve that, as the eye followed it, seemed to over- 
balance, like a toppling volcano. It was Black Ritter. 

Close behind us stood the seven-pinnacled ridge, 
and to the right, knife-like edges of granite gleamed 
hard and clear against a darker sky. On every side 
there was nothing but rock, water, snow, and sky, 
nothing but the wild, savage, stern. 

A long expanse of soaking bog kept my eyes un- 
willingly on the ground. It required the greatest 
care to find safe footing for the animals, especially 
the pack-mules and burros. Nothing is so demoral- 



THE HIGH SIERRA 333 

izing" to a pack-animal as a stretch of bog-gy country, 
with its risk of miring down, and a detour, however 
wide, is apt to be the best of poHcy. With extraordi- 
nary squelchings and snortings we picked our way 
through half-a-mile of the greenest of turf which 
turned to blackest ooze at every step. The lovely 
cassiope, somewhat rare in general, grew here in 
abundance, but was not yet in flower ; nor was the 
bryanthus, which two thousand feet lower down had 
been withered for a month past. 

Mile after mile the trail climbed over barren gran- 
ite, sometimes hard and polished, sometimes disin- 
tegrated on the surface to a coarse sand as large in 
grain as peas. At last we stood at the top of the Don- 
ohue Pass, at eleven thousand feet altitude. Below 
and near us lay several small lakes, half frozen over, 
into which snow-fields plunged steeply ; and crossing 
a wide stretch of softened snow we rounded Mount 
Lyell in full view of and close under the glacier 
which lies as in a great shell all along the moun- 
tain's northern face. From the foot of the glacier the 
water ran in a fair-sized creek, which, gathering force 
from its rapid fall and the accretion of innumerable 
rills, raced away northward to become the Lyell Fork 
of the Tuolumne. 

Bursts of dazzling sunshine alternated with gloomy 
shadow as masses of cloud rolled up from the south. 
The last tree-life was left behind. The arms of the 
glacier ran up into the cafions and draws of the moun- 
tain like surf of the ocean surging into a rocky bay. 



334 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

I felt a strong temptation to make at least a partial 
exploration of the glacier; but the threatening weather 
put it out of the question at the moment, and the 
complete absence of forage for the animals forbade 
our making camp in this wild spot. Reluctantly I 
turned my back upon Lyell for this time, with the 
hope of revisiting the noble mountain another year 
and making the ascent. 

The trail from the Donohue Pass to the Lyell 
Canon offers the hardest piece of work that I know 
of in this part of the mountains. In two miles it drops 
two thousand feet, and, being but little used, each 
traveller finds its passage much the same thing as 
breaking a trail through new country. The famous 
Bloody Cafion Pass, by which we had gone over to 
Mono Lake, is tame in comparison. We tumbled and 
stumbled our way down somewhat recklessly ; but 
by good fortune and good packing we made the de- 
scent without disaster, and by noon came, breathless 
and perspiring violently, to the head of the remarka- 
bly long and level cafion which debouches ten miles 
to the northwest at the Tuolumne Meadows. 

The eastern wall of this cafion is formed by the 
long, barren ridge of Kuna Crest, under whose other 
slope we had camped a week before. It here rose 
in an unbroken rampart from the nine-thousand-foot 
level of the caiion to twelve thousand feet at the 
ridge. The west wall is somewhat less high but 
more broken and timbered. The river was already a 
handsome stream, winding and looping about in a 



THE HIGH SIERRA 335 

manner suggestive of a deputy sheriff earning mile- 
age ; and the fords were sufficiendy wide, deep, and 
rapid. 

Flowers of a score of kinds blossomed about us, 
the castilleias in particular being of giant size and 
astonishing brilliance of color. I notice that having 
at last brought myself to speak of this plant, I am 
beginning to find excellences in it hitherto unknown. 
Probably it is often so ; half of our antipathies might 
be likings if we would, and half of the rest mild ap- 
preciations. Still, I do not really care for this flower, 
any more than I should care for Carmen ; but I can- 
not refuse my admiration. 

Steady travelling for several miles brought us to 
the mouth of Ireland Creek, where we proposed to 
take a new trail to the southwest over the Tuolumne 
Pass ; and we went into camp by mid-afternoon. The 
stream looked ideally fishable, and Field and I rev- 
elled in the experience, new to both of us, and of 
which I had felt doubts of the possibility, of catching 
trout by twos and threes, for there were candidates 
for as many flies as we chose to put on our leaders. 
Certainly the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne is the hea- 
ven of the not-too-skilful fisherman ; — as such, that 
is to say ; for I must add that our trout-supper was 
embittered by a constant skirmish with the mosqui- 
toes. They rushed upon us in such numbers and 
with such diabolical audacity that I found it neces- 
sary to force a passage for each morsel as it ap- 
proached my mouth by gyratory manoeuvres with 



336 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

my left hand, and even then one or two grey imps, 
I suspect, penetrated my guard and by an unwilling 
act of justice were miserably incorporated with the 
food they defiled. 

Next morning we were once more climbing to the 
high levels. Our new trail led up through a forest 
of unusual density and stateliness, every opening in 
which was sprinkled with flowers, from the colum- 
bine of high degree to the lowly but best-beloved 
daisy. Giant lupines tumbled in big blue masses 
across the trail, and bryanthus grew in rounded 
bosses by every creek-side. 

I was in the lead, and rode far ahead. The voices 
of my companions were wafted to me from time to 
time by the lazy forest breeze, usually in reprobation 
of the pack-animals, but otherwise in snatches of 
song attuned to a pensive minor key. It was one of 
those blessed mornings of long silences, when the 
trail is easy to keep and one's thoughts turn inward 
and revolve upon themselves. One whistles, sotto 
voce^ smokes with a deeper peace, notes a million 
things, infinitely small and precious, and receives 
freely those littie clairvoyances of the past which 
shake the heart for the moment but leave it calmer. 
Precipitation takes place rapidly, and the mind is 
clear and cool like the wind. One praises God, but 
only occasionally becomes aware of it. The golden 
silence sings in one's ears, and the inward symphony 
goes quietly on. P., old fellow, K., old man, I wish 
you were here ; not to talk to, just to commune with 



THE HIGH SIERRA 337 

at quarter-mile distances. Is that the wind, or the 
river, booming softly ten thousand miles away ? or 
can it be, in truth, cosmic sound, the very sound of 
the earth ? It might be, it might be. 

Two hours had brought us again to timber-line, at 
between ten and eleven thousand feet. The view 
opened upon a boulder-strewn plateau rising in ter- 
races to the summit of the divide, where we stood 
completely encircled by the mountains, with Lyell 
and McClure to the southeast. The glare of the sun 
on snow and rock was blinding, and we hastened on 
to where the low and matted dwarf pines offered 
some relief to the eyes. I cannot conceive of a more 
luxurious bed than one of these rugs of Pinus albi- 
caulis would make. Beaten and flattened by snow 
and clipped by the wind as if by a mower, they are 
so thick and close and springy that they hardly yield 
to one's weight. The rich, resinous smell of them 
rises like a spirit. It would be worth while coming 
to camp at this altitude just to sleep on such a bed. 

Crossing the divide, a lakelet lay under a snowy 
ridge, which we skirted, and continued over a wide 
stretch of granite pavement. The scene here is wild 
enough to satisfy the most exacting taste for the sav- 
age and desolate ; bare rock, terrified trees, air, and 
sky, these make up the whole prospect. Another and 
larger lake lay near the top of the pass, the crisp 
purple ripples travelling steadily across its surface 
with that unceasing but soundless motion which is 
one of the most attractive actions of Nature. 



338 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

As I rode across a small meadow my attention was 
caught by what was to me a phenomenon in natural 
history, — a green butterfly, grass green from head 
to foot. I know nothing of entomology, to speak of : 
such insects may be common enough ; but I am sure 
that I never encountered one before. I reined up and 
pondered. Was I missing the chance of my unen- 
tomological life ? Was this some hitherto unknown 
species that should be captured at all hazards, and 
that would convey me safely down to posterity with 
a Latin termination? But while I debated he flew 
down the mountain and was gone, " and," as Bunyan 
says, ** I saw him no more." 

The trail here debouched into a broader meadow, 
scattered with slabs and boulders of granite, and with 
a circular lake lying close under a precipitous moun- 
tain with snow-drifts creeping in its gorges down to 
the water's edge. To the north rose high peaks, the 
crests and ridges finely broken and piled in fantastic 
masses. Westward the view was bounded by tim- 
bered ridges fading into the distance, where the Yo- 
semite gorge lay hidden. It was a delightful spot, 
wild, spacious and lonely ; a blue, rippling lake with 
the purest of snow-water rushing into it in cataracts, 
snowy themselves, over gleaming rocks ; cliffs scored 
black with shadow, white with snow, a fitting home 
for eagles ; a wind as free and bold as the eagle, too ; 
a meadow flowery and heathery to delight ; and to 
crown all, sky scenery that day which was truly 
majestic in color, line, and motion. 



THE HIGH SIERRA 339 

My mind was exercising itself with conjectures as 
to the reason for the name of this peak and the lake 
lying under it, — Vogelsang. I was on the point of 
giving up the riddle when the strident voice of the 
Clarke crow, almost the only bird that inhabits these 
highest solitudes, gave me a clue, and I perceived 
that a spirit of irony had suggested the name. 

Crossing the small creek that carries the water from 
this lake, we turned southward over a divide among 
a vast wreckage of debris. Far to the west could be 
seen the top of a huge split mountain ; there was 
no mistaking that strangest of mountain shapes, the 
Half-Dome. Another lake lay close on the left, and 
a deep snow-bank ahead. Skirting these we crossed 
the head of the Tuolumne Pass at 10,700 feet, among 
a wild conglomeration of toppling, tottering, stagger- 
ing rock-shapes piled against a sky across which 
great clouds were momentarily hurtling. 

We were on the main line of watershed of this part 
of the Sierra. To the north a hundred streams ran 
toward the deep gorge of the Tuolumne, while south- 
ward all drained to the Merced and the San Joaquin. 
The outlook here again was superb. To the west that 
fine group of mountains of which Clark is the centre 
lay under a brooding sky. In the near south and east 
rose the great barrier which sweeps up to Mounts 
Florence, Lyell, and McClure. On a shelf of this wall 
of mountains lay a strangely beautiful lake. Broad 
snow-fields swept gloriously into it on the south : a 
fringe of torn pines drew around its northern and 



340 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

western margins. It was my ideal lake, and I then 
and there marked it for my own, setting it deep in 
my affections as a lake of lakes, by which some future 
time I hope to camp for days and nights of pure 
Sierra delight. 

The trail now descended steeply to the McClure 
Fork of the Merced, which flows through a long 
flowery cafion. We had not seen much sign of game 
of late, but here again tracks of deer were plentiful. 
The cation narrowed to a gorge, and scattered tama- 
racks gave place to a fine forest of hemlock. Among 
these noble and beautiful but mournful trees a heavy 
stillness reigned. The great plushy fans of foliage, 
almost black in the gloomy air, but fringed with 
grey silver, were indescribably rich and sumptuous. 
The walls closed in, dark and high. Thunder rolled 
along the northern heights, where twisted junipers 
clung upon the ledges, and a few drops of rain 
fell. 

The river rushed whitely far below, where the for- 
est swept steep and black to the bottom of the gorge. 
It grew darker, and still darker. The trees stood lis- 
tening and longing for the rain, and the meek flow- 
ers looked timidly up. Black thunder crackled and 
roared, and in its pauses the raving of the river as it 
rushed wildly over boulders and slides of granite rose 
loud and fearful, like a cry. Still the rain withheld ; 
is it sparing us ? I wish that it would not ; I love not 
to be made a weakling by my mother : and, Spartan- 
like, I grudge that I should not be scourged. But vSO 



THE HIGH SIERRA 341 

it proved : the thunder continued, the great clouds 
met and parted, but no rain came. 

Again the canon widened, and a change came over 
the spirit of the scenery. We were once more in the 
Yosemite region, surrounded by domes and ice-planed 
mountains. To the north was a rounded cone of bare 
granite with a white cascade clasping its base. Every 
ledge and buttress of every mountain was rounded 
and polished like a woman's shoulder. Half-Dome 
was again in view, and again I wondered at him, as 
I never tire of doing. Far ahead lay a steely sheet of 
water into which granite slopes plunged steeply : it 
was Lake Merced. 

The miles strung out. Forest alternated with rock 
and rock with forest. We entered a pretty grove of 
aspens, mixed with saddle-high lupines and bracken. 
Then we came to the lake, a lovely piece of water 
lying at seven thousand feet, fringed with forest, but 
with slopes and domes rising two thousand feet 
higher, except where, to the west, the Merced River 
flowed out in a wide cascade of whirling foam. 

We made camp on the edge of the lake, among 
aspens, with a fir or two for love; and had hardly 
finished unpacking when the delayed storm broke. 
Thunder boomed and lightning flashed continuously, 
and the quiet little lake was struck into sudden panic. 
Up went our shelter, and we sat on our bedding and 
watched the pots boiling over the hissing fire just 
outside, while the rain poured merrily off the canvas 
and the trees rocked and strained in the gale. It was 



342 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

twelve hours since breakfast, and our meal was ex- 
tended to the proportions of a banquet. Not even 
dessert was beyond our resources when Bodie pro- 
duced from some unsuspected cache of his own a 
handful of dried apricots. 

The storm passed away and the evening was a 
pastoral of quiet beauty. The last shreds of cloud 
drifted in films and smirches of gold and rose in a 
steel-blue sky. A family of wild ducks paddled about 
in the middle of the lake, quacking happily. Birds 
chirped and bustled in the wet brush. The earth had 
been visited and watered, and it was as when one 
saunters in his garden at home while the scents and 
the colors sink deeply in, and do their peaceful 
work. 

The next day's travel was to be the last of our 
trip, for it would bring us to the Little Yosemite. 
Breaking camp early, we followed the trail along the 
northern side of the lake, passing over a sheet of 
polished rock which slopes to the river and rises be- 
yond, forming a narrow trough through which the 
stream rushes at terrific speed in vertical wheels of 
white water. These great slopes that slant away 
steeply from many of the domes are very impressive 
in their fine simplicity of line. For hundreds of feet 
they sweep down smooth and unbroken, with some- 
thing the same suggestion of powerful ease and 
steadiness that one receives in watching the sailing 
flight of eagles. 

Turning northward the trail followed the west 



THE HIGH SIERRA 343 

bank of a pretty, brown stream, and climbed over a 
high ridge, finely timbered, at nine thousand feet. 
Little scraps of meadow hung here and there on the 
steep side of the mountain, and here I first found the 
Alpine lily {Lilium parvimi), swinging its campanile 
of tawny-ruby bells. The mountain pine attains in 
this region its noblest growth, its sturdy red trunk 
and powerful arms showing finely against the slen- 
der symmetry of the firs. 

I was partly glad and partly sorry to find again 
the ceanothus, manzanita, and chinquapin growing 
thick and high as we neared the valley, betokening 
a milder soil and climate than that of the inner Sierra 
which we were leaving. 

At a pretty meadow which keeps alive the memory 
of some departed worthy of the name of Hopkins, 
Field and I left Bodie to take the animals on to camp 
in the Little Yosemite, while we diverged to ascend 
Clouds' Rest, two or three miles to the west. An easy 
climb through a forest of fir and mountain pine took 
us to the summit at 9925 feet, and from this admi- 
rable standpoint we were able to review as on a re- 
lief map the wanderings of the past month. To the 
northwest lay the Hetch-Hetchy country and Lake 
Eleanor, where the long folds of timbered mountain 
faded into dreamy distance. Straight northward the 
Matterhorns rose like the peaks of the Enchanted 
Mountains of our childhood. Farther to the east was 
Mount Dana, and beyond, the far Mono country with 
its grey volcanoes and beautiful, deadly lake: I 



344 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

seemed to feel again the shimmering heat, and see 
the pallid desert sky. 

Yonder, where the mountains were clustered most 
thickly, stood Lyell and his great brethren, the kings 
of the mid-Sierra. To the west lay the gorge of Yo- 
semite. Sunk in the summer mist, her majestic walls 
and precipices, washed in pale amethyst, were airy 
and unsubstantial as a fairy vision : but close beside 
us stood like a solemn hooded figure the Mysterious 
Mountain, great Half-Dome. From this point the 
mountain is in profile, and the splendid line of the 
southern side rises unbroken in its grandeur and se- 
verity ; while from its nearness, the huge bulk of that 
mass of solid granite overpowers one with an almost 
nightmare feeling of vastness and oppression. 

The top of Clouds' Rest itself is built up of weather- 
worn slabs of granite laid one on another in steps and 
ledges. The mountain is heavily forested on its whole 
southern side, the conifers rising in well-marked 
belts, ending with a few dwarf pines at the summit. 
The northern slope is barren, sweeping down in one 
long, unbroken wall to the Tenaya Caiion, with 
Tenaya Lake in plain view at its head. There is 
something of an anomaly in the distribution of timber 
on this mountain, for it is an almost invariable rule 
that the northern slopes are forested while the south- 
ern, more exposed to the sun, are comparatively 
barren. 

A swift downward march of two hours brought us 



THE HIGH SIERRA 345 

to the Little Yosemite, where we found Bodie already 
camped, and mighty preparations going forward for 
a meal worthy of the occasion. The sinkienon, stand- 
ing like an obese martyr among the glowing coals, 
was almost ready to deliver a fragrant loaf ; beansi 
the perfect gold of whose hue equalled but could 
never surpass in charm the melting smoothness of 
their flavor, smoked on a carefully contrived hob, and 
even a scratch ** mulligan" was in process of con- 
coction. 

Sitting that evening by our last camp-fire, I passed 
in pleasant review the experiences of our expedi- 
tion : mornings of heavenly freshness on the trail ; 
caiions on caiions, peaks beyond peaks, ridges be- 
yond ridges; sweet scents of balsam and pine; 
stormy sunrises and wistful sunsets ; heat and dust ; 
luxurious turnings-in by firelight, and reluctant turn- 
ings-out by moonlight ; lakes round, lakes long, lakes 
litde and big of every shape and no shape, lying 
blue in hidden hollows or trembling to sudden silver 
as the wind went by ; breathless climbs and clatter- 
ing descents; cheerful pipings of early birds and 
sleepy twitterings of late ones ; conundrums of trails 
mysteriously vanished from the face of the earth ; 
silent hours of camp-fire meditation ; loquacious hours 
over errors of the trail ; pleasantries of Field and 
Bodie ; unaccountable aberrations of pack-animals ; 
exultations at new discoveries ; daisies ; mosquitoes ; 
quiet lyings awake by night ; solemn glories of sunset 



346 YOSEMITE TRAILS 

peaks ; communions with friendly trees ; chatterings 
of brooks, singings of creeks, and roarings of rivers ; 
dim alleys of forest and aching white rock-highways ; 
ghostly snow-glimmer by starlight ; peaks in solemn 
rank against the sky . . . 

The next morning we went down to the valley. 



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INDEX 



INDEX 



Abies concolor, 9, 112. 

Abies magnijica, 40, 112. 

Ackerson Meadows, 197. 

Agnew, Lake, 319. 

Agnew Pass, 297. 

Alkali Creek Canon, 254. 

Alpine lakes, 221, 242, 252, 262. 

Arrastra, 145. 

Artists' Point, 29, 39. 

Aspen Valley, 73. 

Azalea, 11, 42, 114, 217. 

Banner, Mt., 328. 
Basket Dome, 49. 
Bears, 38, 42, 93, 162, 230, 243. 
Bear-stories, 270. 
Beehive, 219. 
Benson Lake, 243. 
Benson Pass, 253. 
Big Oak Flat Road, 99, 188, 282. 
Birds, 12, 61, 65, 133, 142, 166. 
Blackbirds, 166, 313. 
Bloody Canon, 257, 298, 334. 
Blue-jay Meadows, 99. 
Blue-jays, 43, 61, 133, 211. 
Bodie, guide, 187 et seq. 
Bodie, town of, 264. 
Bret Harte's country, 144, 264. 
Bridal Veil Creek, 6, 42, 188. 
Bridal Veil Fall, 4, 7, 29, 188. 
Broderick, Mt., 49. 
BrodicEa, 201. 

Bryanthus, 67, 232, 237, 241, 246, 
333> 336. 



Buena Vista Peak, 164. 

Bunnell, Dr., quoted, 30. 

Burros, behavior of, 38, 40, 56, 63, 

70, 7i>7S' 100,193,213,222,240, 

258, 298, 315. 

I Cabins, abandoned, 99, 160, 200, 
201, 204, 210, 219, 225, 231, 297, 

i 314. 
Casstope, 256, 333. 
Castilleia, 221, 331, 335. 
Cathedral Lake, 68, 261. 
Cathedral Pass, 66, 122. 
Cathedral Peak, 64, 67, 71, 84, 256, 

287.- 
Cathedral Rocks, 23. 
Cathedral Spires, 22, 
Ceanothus, 11,43, ii4> '66, 205, 343. 
Cedar incense, 8, 58, iii. 
Chamcebatia, 125, 153, 166, 197. 
Chilnualna Creek, 152, 156. 
Chilnualna Falls, 152, 155. 
Chinquapin, 343. 
Chipmunks, 212, 297. 
Chowchilla Mts., 23, 165. 
Clark, Galen, 160, 162. 
Clark, Mt., 45, 47, 57, 65, 87, 92, 

339- 
Clark's Station, 144, 160. 
Clouds' Rest, 30, 58, 62, 84, 116, 

261, 343. 
Clouds' Trail, 55. 
Columbine, 12, 189, 209, 217, 237, 

246, 300, 329, 336. 



350 



INDEX 



Columbia Finger, 65. 
Conness, Mt., 234, 286. 
Conway, John, 23, 279. 
Coyotes, 139, 142, 199, 231. 
Crane, Sandhill, 315. 
Crescent Lake, 160. 
Crocker Point, 41. 
Crocker's Station, 190, 282. 
Crow, Clarke, 31, 63, 120, 231, 297, 

339- 
Cyclamen, 11, 45, 152, 189, 221, 226, 
230, 241, 329. 

Daisy, lavender, 68, 72, 85, 230, 

240, 247, 256, 301, 329, 331, 336. 

Dana, Mt, 72, 286, 287, 288, 291, 

343- 
Dark Hole, 'j:^. 
Deer, 38, 52, 57, 142, 153, 212, 230, 

243. 253, 340. 
Devil's Peak, 165. 
Devil's Post-pile, 252, 297, 298. 
Dewey Point, 41. 
Dogwood, II, 12, loi, 114, 166. 
Dome formation, 6, 23, 257, 260, 

282, 285, 341. 
Donohue Pass, 326, 333. 
Duncan, Jim, bear-hunter, 160, 279. 

Eagle Peak, 43, 89,91. 

Eagles, 92, 206. 

Echo Peak, 64. 

El Capitan, 6, 16, 18, 19, 20,23, 25, 

27, 30. 39. 40» 92» 94. loi, 188 ; 

night on, 95 ; meadows, 97. 
Eleanor Creek, 213, 216. 
Eleanor, Lake, 212, 343. 
El Portal, 10 1, 105, 124. 
Epilobium, 42, 43, 241. 
Erigerotty 230. 



Erythroea, 201. 

Evening primrose {Enothera), 205, 

206, 301, 318. 
Evening in the Sierra, 205, 235, 239, 

345- 

Fairview Dome, 73, 285. 

Falls Creek, 209. 

Farrington's Ranch, 303. 

Fir, red, 40, 46, 58, 112. 

Fir, white, 9, 58, 112. 

Fir-woods, 91, 112, 218. 

Fires, forest, 69, 74. 

Fissures, The, 43. 

Flickers, 166. 

Florence, Mt, 339. 

Flowers, see Azaleas, etc. 

Forest, the, 8, 40, 42, 58, 68, 73, 103, 
126, 146, 154, 211, 2 1 7, 300 ; dead, 
74, 285; Wawona, 114, 166. 

Forget-me-not, giant, 216, 230, 325. 

Fort Monroe, 39. 

Foxes, 158. 

Frog Creek, 217. 

Gem Lake, 319. 

Gentian, 72. 

Gentry's Saw-Mill, loi. 

Geological formation, 5, 24, 260, 

292. 
Geranium, wild, 43. 
Gibbs, Mt., 72, 286. 
Gin Flat, 189. 
Glacial action, 24, 64, 84, 88, 89, 

223, 260, 283, 285, 341. 
Glacial period, 25, 87. 
Glacier Point, 31, 47, 88, 96. 
Glaciers, on Mt. Dana, 293 ; on Mt. 

Lyell, 333. 
Godetia, 12, 197, 201, 211. 



INDEX 



351 



Goldenrod, 12, 43. 
Gooseberries, wild, 93, 166. 
Grand Canon of the Tuolumne, 

208, 249. 
Grant Lake, 314. 

Graves of backwoodsmen, 222,325. 
"Grizzly Giant" sequoia, 135, 139, 

140. 
Grouse, 63, 230, 262. 
Grouse Lake, 158. 

Half -Dome, 18, 19, 20, 23, 25, 30, 

45. 47, 54, 85, 87, 88, 92, 189, 

339,341,344. 
Hawks, 61,151. 
Hazel, 42, 166. 
Heather, bryanthus, 67, 232, 237, 

241, 246, 333, 336. 
Heather, cassiope, 256, 333. 
Hemlock, mountain, 62, 118, 238, 

340. 
Herons, 244. 
Hetch-Hetchy, 202, 211, 224, 229, 

343- 
Hetch-Hetchy Fall, 203, 209, 233. 
Hoffman, Mt, 6, 44, 45, 47, 84, 85, 

261, 282. 
Hog Ranch, 201. 
Hopkins Meadow, 59, 343. 
Horse "Pet," 195, 237, 258. 

Illilouette Creek and Canon, 25,45, 

48, 49, 89. 
Illilouette Fall, 48. 
Indian Canon, 10, 86. 
Indian names of places, 31. 
Indian Sequoyah, 35. 
Indians, 32, 34, 76, 106, 112, 302, 

309, 311, 312; honesty of, 81. 
Inspiration Point, 15, 28, 39, 40. 



Ireland Creek, 335. 
Iris, 153, 301, 315. 



Jack Main Canon, 232. 
Jay, blue, 43,61, 133, 211. 
Juniper (y. occidentalis), 90, 95, 98, 
108, 119, 223, 236, 301, 320, 340. 

Kellogg, Mt., 328. 

King, Clarence, quoted, 22, 25, 57, 

87, 161. 
Kolana Dome, 204, 209, 211. 
Kuna Crest, 286, 287, 288, 296, 334* 

Larkspur, 212, 246, 301. 

Laurel Lake, 217. 

Liberty Cap, 204. 

Libocedrus decurrens, 9, m. 

Lichen, 12, 18, 44, 167, 327. 

Lilies, II, 68, 115, 166, 212, 302. 

Lily, Alpine, 343. 

Little Yosemite, 7, 45, 50, 52, 58, 

345- 
Long Meadow, 64. 
Long Trail, 48. 
Lupine, 12, 45, 152, 197, 199, 209, 

217, 234, 243, 252, 255,301, 331, 

336, 341. 
Lyell Fork Cafion, 326, 2Z3y 334, 

335- 
Lyell, Mt., 92, 294, 319, 328, 333, 

ZZ7, 339, 344; glacier on, 333. 

Mammoth Pass, 298. 
Manzanita, 43, 153, 241, 343. 
Mariposa Grove of Sequoias, 133, 

135,146, 161. 
Marmots, 65, 89. 
Matterhorn peaks, 73, 216, 343. 
Meadow Brook Fall, 28. 



352 



INDEX 



Meadow-larks, 1 66, 2 1 2, 3 1 3. 
Meadows, mountain, 51, 61, 200, 

212,234. 
Merced Grove of Sequoias, 39. 
Merced, Lake, 60, 341. 
Merced River, McClure Fork of, | 

340. I 

Merced River and Caiion, 4, 7, 16, 

25» 39»59> 144, 165, 188,339, 341. 
Mexicans, 169, 283. 
McClure Fork of Merced River, 

340- 
McClure, Mt., 294, 328, 337, 339. 
McGee, Lake, 258. 
McGill's Meadows, 212. 
Mimulus, 12, 166, 197, 237, 241, 300. 
Mines, abandoned, 145, 298. 
Mirror Lake, 261. 
Mono Craters, 291, 303, 310. 
Mono Indians, ^^^ 78, 302, 309, 311, 

312. 
Mono Lake, 291,308, 313. 
Mono Pass, 297. 
Mono Plain, 108, 154,293, 302. 
" Monuments," 236. 
Moraines, 26, 287. 
Morning in the Sierra, 205, 312, 

317, 336. 
Mosquitoes, 60, 70, 205, 210, 222, 

226, 236, 247, 255, 335. 
Mountain -lilac, see Ceanothus. 
Mountain-lions, 42, 142, 230. 
Mmr, John, quoted, 103, 322 ; on the 

Gentian Meadows, 72. 
Mules, behavior of, 193, 195, 298. 
Murdock Lake, 247. 
Murphy's Dome, 74, 261, 282. 

Names, remarks on, 27. 
Nemophila, 152. 



Nevada Fall, 7, 14, 47, 50. 
New Inspiration Point, 188. 
Night, 19, 40, 53, 55, 60, 64,70, 95, 
135. 227, 239, 244, 262, 289, 320. 
North Dome, 23, 30, 88. 
Nutmeg-tree, 125. 

Oaks, 10, 12, 208, 209. 
Ouzels, 217. 

Packing, 61, 84, 85. 

Parker Pass, 297, 3J4. 

Parker Peak, 314. 

Fentstej?ion, 12, 197, 231, 237, 241, 

246, 300. 
Phlox, 241, 291, 327. 
Pine, digger, 105. 
Pine, dwarf, 63, 118, 121, 290, 330, 

ZZ^^ Zyi^ 344- 
Pine, Jeffrey, 47, 95, 107, 154, 302. 
Pine, knob-cone, 124. 
Pine, limber, 123, 300. 
Pine, mountain, 58, 116, 240, 343. 
Pine, nut, 123, 310. 
Pine, pinon, 123, 310. 
Pine, single-leafed, 310. 
Pine, sugar, 41, 58, 94, no, 218. 
Pine, yellow, 9, 58, 106, 154, 206. 
Pinus albicaulis, 63, 1 2 1, 300, 337. 
Pinus attenuata, 124. 
Pinus contorta, 117. 
Finns coulteri, 106. 
Pinus Jlexilis, 123, 300. 
Pitius jeffreyi, 107, 
Pimis lambertiana, 106, no. 
Pinus monopkylla, 123, 310. 
Pinus moniicola, 58, 62, 116. 
Pinus tnurrayana, 117. 
Pinus ponderosa, 9, 58, 106, 154. 
Pinus sabiniana, 105, 201. 



INDEX 



353 



Piute Creek, 249. 
Piute, Mt., 243, 244. 
Plovers, 64, 247, 
Pohono trail, 40. 
Polemonium^ 295. 
Porcupine Flat, 73. 
Pseudotsuga taxifolia, 9, 108. 

Rancheria Creek, 208. 

Rancheria, Mt., 208, 229, 249. 

Raspberries, wild, 207. 

Raymond, Mt., 146, 165, 167. 

Rattlesnakes, 207. 

Red Mt., 45. 

Ribbon Creek, 94, 99. 

Ribbon Fall, 27. 

Ritter, Mt., 294, 328, 332. 

Robins, 133, 205, 212. 

Rock slides, 16, 245. 

Rodgers Lake, 252. 

Roses, wild, 11,43, ^66, 210, 301, 

302, 312, 315. 
Royal Arches, 6, 25, 49. 
Rush Creek, 314. 
Ruskin, John, quoted on the pine, 

107; quoted on lichens, 12. 

San Joaquin Valley, 150, 168, 217. 

Sardine Lake, 299. 

Sawtooth Ridge, 240, 248. 

Sentinel, The, 17, 18, 19, 30, 31. 

Sentinel Dome, 30, 45, 46, 86, 89, 
98, 108. 

Sentinel Fall, 18. 

Sequoia, " Grizzly Giant," 135, 139, 
140. 

Sequoia sempervirens, 129. 

Sequoias, the, 126, 151, 154, 168, 
189; labelling the, 140; Mari- 
posa Grove of, 133, 135, 146, 



i6i ; Merced Grove of, 39 ; night 
among the, 135; storm among 
the, 133; Tuolumne Grove of, 
189. 

Sequoyah, Indian, 35. 

Sheep-men, 200, 269, 283, 297, 322. 

Signal, Mt., 165, 

Silver Lake, 316. 

Smedberg Lake, 252. 

Smoky Jack, 229. 

Snake, King, 207. 

Snow-birds, 133, 151, 158. 

Snow-plant, 10. 

Soda Springs, 233, 256, 282, 283. 

Soldiers, 202, 215, 287. 

Spring in the Sierra, 221. 

Spruce, Douglas, 9, 108. 

Squirrels, 12, 43, 51, 107, 151, 206, 
211, 212. 

Stanford Point, 41. 

Starr King, Mt., 47, 87. 

Stars, multitude of, 289. 

Stone's Meadows, 200. 

Storms in the Sierra, 76, 82, 133, 
147, 226, 319, 321, 326, 329, 341. 

Strawberries, wild, 166. 

Sunrise, Mt., 62. 

Sunrise Trail, 56, 286. 

Swallows, 166, 238, 313. 

Talus, 5, 1 5, 97, 207, 246, 283. 
Tamarack, 59, 62, 74, 117,154,217, 

251, 285, 296, 302, 327. 
Tamarack Creek, 39. 
Tamarack Flat, 189. 
Tenaya Creek and Canon, 4, 22, 

23, 25, 261, 344. 
Tenaya, Lake, 74, 257, 261,282,344. 
Tenaya Peak, 83, 84, 261. 
Thimble-berries, 93. 



354 



INDEX 



Thistle -poppy, 315. 

Thoreau, Henry D., on loneliness, 

83. 
Three Brothers, The, 19, 39, 89, 

91. 
Tilden Lake, 237. 
Till-till, The, 225, 229. 
Till-tUl Creek, 208. 
Tioga Pass, 282. 
Tioga Road, 73, 282. 
Tooeoolala Fall, 203. 
Tower Peak, 238. 
Trout, 50, 159, 187, 226, 243, 335. 
Tsuga mertensiana, 62, 118. 
Tulip, mariposa, 197. 
Tutnion californica, 125. 
Tuolumne Canon, 44, 339. 
Tuolumne, Grand Canon of the, 

208, 249. 
Tuolumne Grove of Sequoias, 189. 
Tuolumne Meadows, 70, 257, 286. 
Tuolumne Pass, 121, 339. 
Tuolumne River, 197, 201, 204, 256, 

339 ; Lyell Fork of, 326, :>,ZZ^ 

335- 

Unicorn Peak, 64, 256, 287. 

Vernal Fall, 9, 14, 47, 49, 
Vernon Lake, 218, 223,233. 
Violet, II, 221, 230. 
Vogelsang Lake, 339. 
Vogelsang Peak, 339. 
Volcanoes, 291,303, 309, 310. 
Volunteer Peak, 247. 



! Wagon-tramps, 307, 312. 
I Walker Lake, 301. 
I Walker River, 238. 

Wallflower, 189. 

Washington Column, 4, 6, 23, 30. 

Watkins, Mt,, 30. 

Wawona Dome, 150, 152. 

Wawona forest, 114, 146. 

Wawona Meadows, 150, 165. 

Wawona Point, 167. 

Wawona region, 144. 

White Rapids, 256. 

White Wolf, 73, 229. 

Whitney, Josiah Dwight, quoted, 
20, 24, 36. 

Winter in Yosemite, 13. 

Wood, Mt., 314. 

Woodpeckers, 43, 61, 107. 

Yosemite, Little, 7, 45, 50, 52, 58, 

345- 

Yosemite Creek and Canon, 6, 44, 
86. 

Yosemite Falls, 6, 13, 20, 87, 92. 

Yosemite Point, 87, 88. 

Yosemite Valley, autumn, 12 ; birds, 
12; cemetery, 22; configuration, 
3, 5; extent, 4; flowers, 10; 
forest, 8, 1 10 ; general character, 
4 ; geological formation, 5, 24 ; 
glacial period, 25; Indian names, 
31; Indian summer, 13; night 
in, 19 ; nomenclature, 27 ; rock- 
features, 15; spring, 10, 14; sum- 
mer, 1 1 ; waterfalls, 7 ; winter, 13. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
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